Save the Citizen
by firefliesandlace
Summary: All heroes are people, but can all people be heroes? Warren/citizen
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Emilie shuffled up the last few steps to the Maxville Public Library, resigned to facing the next four hours shelving books. And you know, it wasn't the shelving that bothered her; she could listen to her music the entire time, and usually ended up finding some really unique reads on the over crowded and ancient shelves. No, what really irked Emilie, was that she would be shelving books that people checked out and usually never even read. Sighing as she tossed her school bag under the check-out counter, she acknowledged her grandmotherly boss with a smile, then headed straight for the carts of books waiting just for her.

Donning her earphones, Emilie mechanically wove her way between sections, fiction and non-fiction, numbers and letters, until she was cursing the Dewey Decimal system for making her feel like she was going a little dyslexic due to the miniscule type setting. Deciding to take her break in the middle of the biographies, Emilie picked out the history of Lady Jane, and wound her way back to the reading area.

About the time Emilie was reading about adolescence in medieval England, someone else settled into one of the musty old reading chairs. Typically, the arrival of a fellow reader was easily ignored by Emilie, she just supposed years of reading had made her completely immune to distractions while she lost herself in literature. However, this intrusion was anything but typical. Most people who visited the Maxville Public Library were the same people who could eat meals and go to the movies at discounted rates, either very young or old. But peeking out over the edge of her book, Emilie saw something that she could only describe as being akin to seeing a knife thrower in a petting zoo. The first thing that threw her for a loop, was the fact that he was about her age, but that had to be impossible because Emilie had never seen another high schooler in the Library. If that wasn't enough to cause a distraction, the guy had trouble written all over him, from his ripped jeans to his worn leather jacket. Reluctantly, Emilie had to admit to herself that he was, well, hot. Irrationally, this really pissed Emilie off. What was he doing, walking into her hamlet of seclusion with his badass self, no doubt stumbling through the words of Nietzsche, mocking those like her who actually found some solace in scholarly pursuits.

"Humph," she sighed loudly, startling the guy into looking at her, while she found herself still glaring at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked her, his voice wavering on the edge of annoyance.

Immediately, Emilie felt that damn uncontrollable blush creep into her cheeks, embarrassed at getting caught staring. And she felt conflictingly guilty for making so many hasty assumptions about the stranger, yet even more furious with him for some unknown reason.

"No…well, yeah. I mean, what are _you_ doing here?" she finally accused.

"Excuse me?" he growled, and Emilie swore she could feel the heat of his anger from four chairs away.

"No, I, well, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that no teenagers _ever_ come in here. You know what, whatever," she conceded, flustered. "You can do whatever you like. Sorry. Free country and all that."

When he just continued to look at her, as if sizing her up, Emilie hastened, ever reluctant to make enemies, "I'm sorry, I think I started us off on the wrong foot." She smiled apologetically, "I'm Emilie. Sitting here, reading, and noting that it's nice for once to sit and read with someone who requires neither the aid of reading glasses and geriatric medicines nor the assistance of an adult to sound out all of the words for him."

At the hint of a smile from the stranger, Emilie's smile grew and she raised an eyebrow, indicating it was his turn to add to the conversation.

"I'm Warren."

Silence.

"And a man of many words I see." Emilie joked, trying to draw out a little more from the incongruous reader.

"And I'm also literate, which explains why I came to the library. To read." He stated with finality.

"Right, absolutely, and I will let you get back to your book." Emilie finished, feeling mildly relieved that she didn't have to pull words from the guy- Warren, any more. Wriggling back into the overstuffed chair, she tried in vain to get back to her biography.

"So why are you here?"

Emily looked up from the same line she'd been reading for the last ten minutes.

"What?" She frowned at him in confusion.

"Why are you here? If supposedly, no one who knows the title of Madonna's latest single ever comes in here, then why are you here?" he explained.

"Oh, well, I work here part-time."

He nodded in understanding, but added nothing more.

"Madonna, huh? I would have never taken you for a Madonna fan." She cocked an eyebrow in questioning.

He scowled and rolled his eyes, "It was a topical reference."

She smiled a little at him, stifling a giggle, but when she caught a glimpse of his face giving away how ridiculous he knew he sounded, she let herself laugh out loud. And when he gave her a smile back, she had to admit that it felt like she's just scored a goal in a shutout game.

When he suddenly pulled himself out of the chair to stand up, Emilie looked up at him for explanation, hoping that she hadn't inadvertently done something else to upset him.

"I've got to go to work," he said in a brusque familiarity. "I guess I'll, you know, see you around."

"Right, I should get back to shelving, too." Emilie added, wanting to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "See you around." She quipped as he headed off for the row that led to the exit.

Picking up her biography, and running a hand through her hair, Emilie looked up, just in time to see Warren glancing back at her.

I don't know where this came from. A whole vague outline of this story kind of popped into my head. Here's the basics, let me know if you think I should continue with it.

it'll all be told in Emilie's point of view from now on

she will not have any powers. Period.

the premise is that a citizen can be just as much of a hero, without sounding so cliché

all of the originals will be main characters in the story, but obviously it'll be warren/oc


	2. Question the Citizen

Isolation

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Emilie and the plot.

Isolation. That's the best word I can think of to describe the way it feels when I'm shelving. The shelves are tall enough to resemble caves, and with music blaring in my ears, it just gets really easy to forget that any other people exist in the world at all. Today was one of those days. There weren't any major dramas in my life currently, it was the last week of summer, and one of my guilty pleasure songs came on my ipod. Oh yeah, Kenny Loggin's "Footloose" made for the perfect dance break. Giving in to the ridiculousness of the eighties, I cut loose. And, typical, right when I'd really hit my groove, someone _had_ to walk by.

Frozen in mid-twist, I gave an involuntary wince of embarrassment when I saw it was Warren, standing there, arms crossed, with the snarkiest smirk on his face.

"Working hard?" he asked, feigning seriousness.

"Diligently." I replied in mock innocence, but ultimately unable to keep the smile off my face. "How do you always catch me when I'm doing something ridiculous?" I questioned in disbelief.

He just shrugged, the smile slowly slipping from his face, but I swear I could still see laughter in his eyes. _Definitely a personal best_, I congratulated myself, _I had him smiling for almost a whole minute there._

My personal award ceremony was interrupted when Warren nodded to the right, "Time for your break yet?"

"Yeah," I said, following him as he led the way to the reading area. _Boys are so clueless_, I thought to myself. Warren had become a regular at the library over the summer, coming in at almost the same time every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and after his first couple arrivals, always found me in the stacks and asked if it was time for my break. I guess he never noticed that no matter the time, I always said yes.

I bit my lip to try to hide my smile as Warren went to the same seat he always sat in, and I settled into the chair across from him. Silently we both pulled out our books of choice, each knowing full well that we'd not get more than one page read before one of us interrupted with a question. The question ritual started by accident. We used to just read silently, and when one of us got up to go back to work, the other would take it as his cue to return as well, but Emma changed all that. Unable to keep my discontent with Emma Woodhouse to myself, I asked aloud, "Who plays matchmaker with their friends?" Meaning it as a rhetorical question, I was more than shocked when Warren answered, "I have."

Blow away that he'd not only spoken, but by the visual a Warren as some kind of Cupid, I stared back at him. "No way. When?"

So that's how our, I guess, friendship began. Warren told me about how he helped out his friend, Layla, make the guy she liked jealous, and then how they'd all ended up as friends. In fair trade, he asked me a question, and it all just kind of grew from there; no subject was off limits (though Warren's responses did tend to get rather vague), and we hit every subject from family to the number of consecutive cartwheels I can do. So it was no surprise, when after only one page into my novel, Warren spoke up.

"Okay. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Pulling my legs up so I was sitting crossed-legged in the chair, and settling in for the conversation, I cringed. "You're going to laugh at me, but honestly, I wanted to be a turtle."

"A turtle?" he shook his head in incredulity.

"Yup. That was the big dream, and I wanted it all- the shell, the tail, the whole thing. But when I told my mom, she told me that that wasn't possible, and to think about being a teacher or doctor. I remember being crushed; doctors and teachers just sounded so boring, so I thought about it forever, and came up with a plan B: a fairy godmother. What about you? What was little Warren going to be? A doctor? A firefighter?"

Warren let out a laugh, and just shook his head, "Not a chance. I was going to be a superhero."

"Ahh, yes, of course, the thing every little boy dreams of being. What did you do when you found out you'd missed out on the superhero gene?"

"Who says I'm not a superhero in disguise?"

Now it was my turn to laugh, "Ha, right. I am physically incapable of imagining you in a spandex suit. But, seriously, what did you do when you discovered that you just didn't come from a family of heroes?"

His face darkened a little, "What everyone does I guess, try to keep reminding yourself that who your family is doesn't determine who you are. At least not completely."

Unsettled by such a personal answer from him, I was speechless, but only for a second.

"Well, okay, then, Warren the Superhero, what was going to be your superpower?"

"Pyrokinesis."

"What is that, like flame-throwing? That's a pretty big word for a kid, but you know, I think that would definitely fit you. I could see it."

He smiled knowingly at me, "What about you, Emilie the Citizen, if you could have a power, what would you choose?"

"Hmm," I considered. "Well, I guess super strength or being able to fly would be cool, but, I don't know, they're kind of banal. Don't you think? I'd definitely want something that would be handy in daily life too. Oh, I've got it. Ready? The powers of persuasion."

Warren looked back at me skeptically.

"Oh, come on. That would be a good one. You could talk a villain down, and then no bystander would get hurt from being in the middle of a fight. And then I could use it to get out of sticky situations too. Like if I got pulled over for speeding, I could talk the cop out of giving me a ticket. That's a good one, right?" I looked at him hopefully, asking him to concede that my imaginary power would be a good one.

"Okay," he gave in. "That's a decent one. So would you be a private hero, hired out by corporations, or a public servant, who has to come whenever he's called?"

"Definitely the pro-bono hero." I said without hesitation. "I don't think I could just let anyone face danger alone. I don't do that now. Do you know that's the only time I've every really gotten in trouble at school? I hit a girl." I shook my head, still mad at myself for the whole ordeal. Worried about what Warren might think about this violent side of me, I glanced at him to see what he was thinking.

Surprise and intense curiosity were the only things I found there, absolutely no judgment. I guess he could tell what I was thinking because he looked back at me and said, "I'm the last person to criticize someone for throwing a punch. And I highly doubt that you'd hit someone without a good reason."

His acceptance mollified me into giving him the long version.

"She did deserve it. She was the senior popularity queen; she was in my French class. And she'd spend the entire period making the most disgusting comments about everyone in the class she'd deemed were inferior to her, which in her mind was just about everyone. After about a month of it, I just snapped. She was writing a sentence on the board which basically said that the girl who sat next to me was fat cow who should just kill herself, and her ladies in waiting were giggling at in the back, and the teacher didn't do a thing. I don't even remember thinking; I just got out of my seat, walked to the board, and punched her in the face. Ugh, the worst part, the part that makes me question my sanity a little is that fact that I'm still damn proud that I did it. I still think it was the right thing to do. Isn't that crazy?"

Warren answered simply, "She was a villain."

"Who wore designer clothes?"

He shrugged, "She was doing something wrong, the teacher who should have stopped her didn't, so you stepped in and did what you thought was right."

"Maybe," I thought aloud. "I think villain is a little bit harsh of a word for her, but I guess on a very small scale it could be compared to a hero/villain battle. I think that's something that people gets carried away with. It's hard to label someone a hero or villain. What do you have to do to be called either one?"

"It's pretty simple. Person who does bad things equals a villain, and the guy who protects the citizens and saves the day is the hero." He spelled it out slowly, exaggerating his intelligence. I laughed at the act.

"Thanks, teach. Not quite what I meant, but I think we've I've exhausted this subject enough don't you think?"

"I couldn't agree more," he said, a relaxed smile crawling over his previously focused features. "I should probably get back to work anyways. See you Saturday." He started putting his book back in his bag, preparing to go.

Mustering up my confidence, I struggled to ask him the thing I'd wanted to ask him for a week now. _Just say it, Emilie_. I stood up, the same time as Warren and said, "Or Friday. I mean, I was thinking that Chinese food sounded good, and, well, you know we always hang out at my place of employment. So, I don't know, I thought that maybe I could eat at the Paper Lantern tomorrow. You know, if that's alright. I wouldn't want to get in your way at work, or anything." I finally managed to get out, completely flustered. I looked up to see Warren's face deep in concentration as an awkward silence settled over us.

Just wanting the mortifying moment to end, I decided to give him an easy way out, "You know what, don't worry abou-"

But he cut me off, "No, that sounds like a plan. I was just thinking that Will and everyone usually come in on Fridays, but I'd like you to meet them, and I know Layla is curious about you. So I'll see you at about eight-thirty tomorrow night? I'll be the one in the apron, carrying the food."

I couldn't help it, I was beaming. Warren wanted me to come see him tomorrow, and meet his friends who I'd heard about all summer. But the real kicker, the comment I knew was going to keep me smiling for at least the rest of my shift was that he said Layla was curious about me, which must mean that he's at least talked about me a little to the rest of his friends. Feigning nonchalance, I tried to diminish my grin a little bit, when I looked back up at him.

"Okay. Tomorrow, eight-thirty, the Paper Lantern. I'll be the redhead trying to get the waiter's attention."

After watching him round the shelf on his way out, I danced all the way back to my cart of books, and this time I didn't even need Kenny Loggin's serenading me.

Tah-dah! I can't believe I posted this next chapter so fast, but it's been swimming around for a while. I know the story is still going a little slow and the chapter is rather short, but I need them to have a comfortable friendly relationship before the plot really starts rolling. Next chapter will definitely be longer, and finally have some action in it. It'll be at the Paper Lantern, and all of the other canons will be there, so it should be interesting to see how long the super hero thing can remain a secret. Hope everyone caught the couple of ironies in this chapter. And Emilie's wanting to be a turtle when she was little is all me, my mom thought I was crazy. Oh, next chapter won't be up until at least the weekend cause I'm finally moving back to school(!) and I don't know how long it'll take for me to get internet back up, hopefully, my roomies will already have it running.

I'd love any ideas that pop into your head about the story- things you think should happen, or details, whatever. It just helps. Please review.


	3. Date the Citizen

Warren breathed a little sigh of relief when Will and Layla finally walked into the Paper Lantern at eight fifteen on Friday night; everyone else had been there for about fifteen minutes, and Warren was waiting for the lovebirds to arrive before he told

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Based on Disney's Sky High. The movie description is of Deep Impact.**

Warren breathed a little sigh of relief when Will and Layla walked into the Paper Lantern at eight fifteen on Friday night; everyone else had been there for about fifteen minutes, and Warren was waiting for the lovebirds to arrive before he told them that Emilie was going to be joining them tonight. Setting down the entrees he was holding at their respective tables, Warren then turned to fill the group in on what exactly they could and couldn't say tonight.

"Finally some service. Jeez, good help is so hard to find these days." Zach joked when he saw Warren coming. Warren just rolled his eyes, amazed that Zach's sense of humor still hadn't evolved, but noted that his friend's arm was comfortably wrapped around Magenta's shoulders, so apparently something _had_ been going on this summer between those two. _And it's about time_, he thought to himself before buckling down to business.

"Cute, Zach. But really, I just came over here to tell you guys that Emilie is coming tonight," he was interrupted by Layla's squeal. "Now see, that's exactly the kind of thing I wanted to talk about. Hippie, you can't go off the deep end like that. Don't make a big deal out of this. We're just friends. And you're my other friends, and I just want- whatever. The most important thing is that you cannot, under any circumstances, mention the hero thing." He whispered the last part.

"Well, obviously, Warren. We know she's a citizen, you've only mentioned it a thousand times," Ethan jumped in, and exchanged a knowing glance with Layla. "You know though, I have a hard time believing that you're this worked up about us meeting 'just a friend.'" He teased him.

The bell over the door rang as a teenage girl entered.

"Oh!" Layla said loudly, turning around in the booth so she could see the girl. "Is that her?"

Warren's eyes had flown to the door the second he heard the bell ring, and after Layla's outburst felt immensely relieved.

"No, but thanks for keeping your excitement to a minimum. Really, don't make this awkward. Please?" Warren asked again.

"Warren Peace begging? I can totally get used to this," Magenta joked.

Taking pity on the guy, Will allayed his worries. "Calm down, we all promise to be on our best behavior. Right, guys?"

The rest of the group's answers were lost on Warren; he'd just seen a flash of bright red hair walking up to the front door. Turning so he could meet her when she walked in, he left his friends in the middle of their concessions to play nicely.

_**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**_

_Should have gone for comfort_, I thought to myself for the millionth time, questioning my outfit choice. I hadn't wanted to do the everyday t-shirt and jeans thing, I mean, I know this isn't a date-date, but it could segue to that. _Fantastic, Chinese food has now become my gateway dating drug._ I tugged my snug black top down a little toward my cleanest pair of jeans, and concentrated on not tripping in my heels as I opened the door.

My gaze immediately settled on Warren who was filling up the entry way, and that silly grin I hadn't been able to keep off my face whenever I thought about tonight reappeared. Unfortunately, it was joined by a blush when I saw that he was smiling back at me.

"Hey," I said. _Stop blushing. Stop blushing. Stop blushing._

"You made it." He answered as he stepped closer.

_Stop blushing. Stop it! Oh no, it's getting worse. Think of calming things, sad things, anything non-Warren._

"Yeah, I had to come. I heard that there is this one waiter here," I started. _Sink-holes. Butterfly gardens. Grandma's potato salad. I must look like a tomato. _I flipped my hair off my shoulders hoping to cool down a bit. "And this waiter, well he looks like a bad-ass, but if you make him spill something, he cries like a baby."

Warren smirked back, "Hmm, must be the new guy." Then he put his hand on my lower back to lead me out of the entryway. The heat from his hand instantly sent my temperature out of control, and I was having trouble concentrating on anything else.

"Is it hot in here?" I asked hoping to make him think that the pink in my cheeks (and now spreading elsewhere) was just from the weather or restaurant, anything but from my reaction to him. But the second the words left my mouth, his hand snapped from my back and he backed up a few steps.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "The ovens and stuff. Well, here we are."

Confused by his reaction, and forcing myself not to overanalyze it, I looked at the people sitting in front of me. I knew enough from what Warren had said over the summer to discern them as Warren gave each of their names. Layla had deep auburn hair and was entwined with an all-American looking guy who Warren introduced as Will. On the other side of the booth was Magenta, who looked like she really liked the color of her namesake, then Zach, who looked like he really liked Magenta, and finally, Ethan, who seemed to be just taking in the whole thing. Warren then turned back to me, "And this is Emilie. Emilie, the guys."

"Ahem," Magenta grunted at Warren.

"And the girls," Warren relented. I joined in, when the group laughed at what seemed to be an ongoing battle between the two of them.

The blush finally dying down on my face, I smiled at the group, and scooted into the booth next to Layla.

"So you all go to the magnet school with Warren?" I asked trying to start up the conversation.

Ethan smiled back when he answered, "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Our subject material generally varies from Maxville High's curriculum, particularly when it comes to applied theory and concentrated prospectus in each of our regulated philosophical-based courses."

"Right," I managed, completely flummoxed by Ethan's response. After a second of stunned silence, the table and Warren, still standing at the end, erupted in sniggers.

"And translated, he just means we specialize in different courses." Warren clarified. Just as he finished, a voice yelled out from the kitchen in rapid Chinese. Warren cringed a little, "I've got to get back to work, but I think I'm leaving you in capable hands." He nodded at the rest of the table, then gave me a half-smile before heading back to the kitchen.

The second he was out of earshot, Layla, who had seemed to be just quivering with repressed excitement, spoke out, "So Emilie, tell us about yourself. Do you like school? I heard you work at the library; what's your favorite book? And you're not dating anyone, right?"

Laughing at her enthusiasm with everyone else, I started to get to know Warren's friends.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

After about an hour of trading anecdotes about high school faux pas and black sheep family members, the conversation had eased into that of informal friends- one where multiple conversations were flying around at once and all were repeatedly interjected with raucous laughter.

During a particularly funny story of Zach's that had us all straining to catch our breath, Warren walked back to our corner, finished bussing all of the empty tables. Will and Layla slid deeper into the booth to make room for him, and I followed their lead until there was enough room for Warren to collapse next to me.

The second that his body settled flush against mine, it felt like every area of contact ignited with tingling warmth that spread through the rest of me. _Keep it together, Emilie. He's just sitting next to you. Try to keep the swooning to a minimum until he pins you against the wall and has his way with you. Whoa, fantastic visual, but really not helping. Think dull. Think Tupperware parties._

"Working hard?" I mimicked his usual greeting to me at the library.

"Umph," he grunted as he leaned back against the booth and rested his arms on the table. "So I take it you guys enjoyed yourselves?"

"Yes, we definitely approve of Emilie," Magenta answered, in what I'd come to learn was just her usual bluntness. Warren, however, responded to her sass with a mild glare.

"And I approve of them," I nodded to Warren, trying to convince him that I'd come to really like his friends. _And you_, I mentally added.

"And since we all like each other, you should join us every Friday, Emilie," Layla invited, drawing nods of agreement from the rest of the group.

"I'd like that," I admitted, but looked back a Warren to see what he was thinking, after all they were _his_ friends. Smiling when I saw him grinning at the idea, I turned again to Layla, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Well, I think it's about time we headed home, don't you, Will?" Will and everyone else agreed, and soon we were all pulling ourselves out of the booth and saying goodbyes.

"Do you need a ride, Emilie?" Zach asked, his hand now interlaced with Magenta's.

Before I could answer, Warren spoke up, "It's cool. I'll walk you home."

_Yes! Yes! Yes! _I silently celebrated, but managed to voice my acquiescence in a fairly normal tone. _Chill. Rubbermaid. Casserole dishes. Slotted spoons._

I smiled, and even hugged a few, goodbyes to everyone, until it was only Warren and I, and I think the owners, in the restaurant.

"Let me go put up my apron and tell Mrs. Cho that I'm leaving, and we can head out."

"Okay," I said, and leaned against the table to wait for him.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

After I spoke to Mrs. Cho, I swapped the apron for the clean t-shirt I always brought with me. As I gathered all my tips, I peeked through the doorway to check on Emilie. God, she looked good. She looked simple, no, classic. She looked like she didn't even have to try to look amazing; hell, I don't think she really even knew how mesmerizing she was. Most of the girls at school and the ones that came into the Lantern seemed so… trendy. Emilie was contradictory, in a good way. It's just that she seemed real and ethereal at the same time.

He could see dirt along the hem of her jeans and watched as she fiddled with her hands self-consciously, but the whole picture of her, perched against a table, haloed by her red hair that caught the light of every lamp nearby, waiting for him made him wonder why the hell it had taken him so long ask her here.

_She was the one who asked_, he chided himself. _And it's because you actually like her. She's not just another set of legs or lips like the cryo-girl or the girls before her. You actually give a damn what she thinks of you…those legs and lips though are a perk, a really great perk._

Shaking off the internal monologue, I headed back out to Emilie.

"Ready?" I asked, and when she nodded, guided us out the front door. Holding it open for her I said, "You lead the way."

"'Kay," she answered. "But let me take off these shoes first, I think I've appreciated being five-eight long enough." She grabbed my shoulder to balance herself and I instantly felt my muscles tense beneath her hand. Once she was back to only reaching the top of my chest, she descended the steps, shoes in hand and pointed left.

"Home is that-a way."

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I caught up to her stride.

"So, how'd you like everyone tonight?" I asked, a little disturbed by how much her answer to this particular question meant to me. Ethan, and Magenta, and everyone felt like an extended part of myself; I wanted the first friends I've ever had to be accepted by this new… friend. I should have known I wouldn't be disappointed.

"I love 'em. Everyone is nice and funny obviously, but really unique too. I mean, you can't immediately figure out how so many different people would end up as friends. My friends at school all are pretty much the same. Same backgrounds, same teachers for the past eleven or so years, same tax bracket, you know, that sort of thing. Yours cover a much broader spectrum, I like it." She answered, smiling back up at me.

She laughed, and pointed at a bench across the street that had Will's parents painted on the back, one of the many dispersed across every public area in Maxville.

"Will looks like he definitely fits right in with his family. Very normal. I swear though, you can't go anywhere without seeing one of those benches or signs. The phone number is burned into my brain."

"I know. That's the Stronghold's though, larger than life." I managed, but couldn't think of anything else to add. In silence, Emilie brought us into a neighborhood close to where Layla and Will lived, and took another left.

_Think of something to say. Anything. Quit thinking about how much you'd really love to just stop here and tangle your fingers up in her curly and ironically, flame colored hair and find out what she tastes like. This wasn't even a date, so you've got to at least wine and dine her first…. Or a compromise, maybe you could ask her out and then kiss her._

Continuing to look straight ahead I asked, "Do you want to get coffee with me after school on Wednesday? Just me, though, I won't spring the whole crew on you again."

She turned to face me, beaming, "I'd love to. Pick me up at four?"

"Sounds good." And determined that she wouldn't be making any more of the first moves, I locked hands with hers as we kept walking.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

_Tupperware can go screw itself. Warren Peace asked me on a date and is subsequently holding my hand. And I'm not even wearing those painful, if leg lengthening, heels._

Concentrating on not allowing my current state of euphoria to lead me to begin any exaggerated swinging of our interlocked hands, I stole one more quick glace up at Warren as we approached my house.

"This is it, home sweet home." I stopped us, a little disappointed that I had to let go of his enticingly warm hand. A hand which looked far more interesting with its tattoo and scars than my small freckled one did. _Kiss me, please._ I silently pleaded, looking up at him, expectantly.

"Right, 1114 Tigris. I'll remember that. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow at the library?" He answered, staring at the front of my house before returning his gaze to me at the end of his question.

"Yeah," I nodded in defeat, biting my bottom lip in frustration. _Damn this unexpected chivalry. _

But I saw his focus move from my eyes to my lips for just a second, conveying his thoughts. Trying to encourage the boy I never would have imagined needed encouragement in this situation, I "stumbled" just a little closer to him.

"Well, then, I guess I'll be going." But before I'd even turned a quarter of the way back to my house, I felt his hands burning their imprint on my upper arms as he firmly twisted me back towards him. Grinning the tiniest bit, my eyes fluttered closed when his lips met mine.

The kiss was quick, or at least quicker than I'd have wanted. _Slut,_ I mocked myself. I couldn't control the urge to tug on a group of curls with my free hand when I moved back to smile up at him. Small tendrils of heat felt like they were still winding through my body, but they were no competition for the flip-flops my stomach was doing. And there was Warren, staring back, a half-grin on his face. _And I put it there. Damn, I'm good._

"See you tomorrow," I reiterated, and still beaming, walked up the path to my front door and let myself in.

The second the door slammed close, my dad skidded out of his office and into the foyer.

"Did you have a nice time tonight?" he asked, and I know he was trying his absolute hardest to be "a cool dad," his words, not mine.

"Fantastic," I answered. "And I've got a date with Warren on Wednesday, which I know is a school night but you don't have to worry because we're going right after school. And it's the first week of school anyway so there's practically no homework. And, yes, I am still your little girl, and respect myself and all the rest of your 'date speech.'" I love my dad, but really, I am seventeen, and this isn't exactly my first foray into the wonderful world of men. _Although this one definitely is the most… well, it's the most something._

My dad just smiled back at me. It's a smile that I knew well, the one that says "I know you're growing up, and I'm proud and excited for you, but it would just fine with me if you decided to grow back down instead of up." It's one hell of a smile, and always evokes pity from me. If mom were still here, he wouldn't feel like I'm going to grow up and abandon him. He'd still be part of a team. Sighing, I dropped my shoes by the door, and went to give him a hug. _Poor guy, raising a dating teenage daughter and over-energetic nine year-old all by himself._

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

I hugged my little girl just a bit tighter. I only get to keep her here for another two years, and I don't want to share her. Especially not with some hormone-ridden teenage boy, and that one I saw kissing her on _my_ sidewalk looks like he fits that description to a T. Shrugging out of my grasp, Emilie gave me a quick peck on the cheek then walked off to her room. I heard her checking in on Eric as I padded back into the office.

Eyes locking on a picture of Elizabeth, Carson marveled at how much more Emilie reminded him of her every day. Her ever-multiplying freckles, the way her laughter would grow out of control, making a spectacle of her and causing everyone else to laugh even harder, and mostly, that irrepressible mop of red hair. That was the first thing that caught his attention about her mother. She was performing in the school play, and he had come back from college for a weekend to watch his brother in the show. The spotlights reflected off her hair from every angle, lighting it up like a beacon. He lost himself in the memory of her.

Unable to stop himself, he stroked his thumb along her hair in the photo, trying desperately to remember the way it felt between his fingers.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Warren couldn't remember ever having a more positive outlook on any of his first days of school; he'd gotten to spend more time than usual with Emilie on Saturday, had a date with the smiling siren on Wednesday, and right now was walking up to meet his group of friends on the steps before school started. Thinking that his last two years of high school _might_ even be enjoyable, Warren loped up to the circle. Though he was sure his face didn't betray any of his lighthearted attitude, the group seemed able to tell that they weren't going to have to deal with typical school-day-back-of-the-class Warren. When he reached them, everyone was still repeating their activities from the previous weekend; they all turned to walk into the building.

Just as they were about to split up to go to their respective homerooms, Principal Powers came on the P.A. calling for all of the students and faculty to meet in the gym for an assembly. Confused by the change in usual protocol, the gang turned down the next hall and was herded into the gym with everyone else. Settling into the bleachers, murmurs flew through the student body, wondering what was going on.

"Students and faculty, first of all, welcome back to Sky High," Principal Powers began, taking her place at the podium in the center of the floor. "As the majority of you know, an assembly such as this is generally not a common practice of ours; however, there is a vital matter which I would like to discuss with all of you in the hopes that we can most efficiently and effectively handle the situation and minimize the number of outlandish rumors that often accompany a quandary like this.

"We have recently been informed by the Superheroes Intelligence Bureau that a large number of villains, formerly united beneath Royal Pain, alias Sue Tenny or Gwen Grayson, have reconvened and are in the process of planning a massive offense against the super-powered community, the brunt of which will be mainly focused on Maxville, due to the heightened number of superheroes we house. I am warning you of this for several reasons. The first is to encourage you to increase your awareness and utilization of safety practices that come with this time of escalated threat. The second is to motivate you. Us, your faculty at Sky High, have industriously labored in our efforts to prepare you for your future lives as superheroes, and this particular peril ought to prove to even the most thick-headed of you that hazards like this are very real, and will be just as real when you graduate and are expected to face them. Which brings me to my final reason; the one I believe is most important.

"This union of supervillains has already proved themselves to be ruthless, brutal, and most dangerous of all, extremely well-organized. But they are not the first group to ever be described as such, nor will they be the last. And if you look around you, I hope you can understand why I am bringing this up. Do you see injustice running rampant? Wrongs un-righted? Does a callous and coldblooded contingent of criminals run our world? The answers to all of these is a resounding "no," and that is because the heroes who have come before you have fought relentlessly to ensure such things never will. The current superheroes in action will contest this new threat, and it would behoove all of you to take note as you study, planning for the day you become a part of that brave force." Taking a long moment to appraise the crowd of students before her, Principal Powers let out a long sigh. There was great potential to be found among the multitude in front of her, she just hoped she was doing the best by them.

Finding a lighter tone of voice she finished, "That being said, time to get to work. You may all return to your homerooms to get your schedules, except for the freshmen, who are to remain in the gym for your Power Analysis." With that she exited the gym and headed straight for her office where she knew there would be no pause in the number of teachers and eventually, parents wanting to speak with her today. She prayed that the majority of the parents would have read today's issue of Maxville's underground hero newspaper, _The Signal_, which detailed the whole ordeal in even greater detail.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

The second Principal Powers stepped off of the podium, the gym erupted in conversation, and while the majority of the school began a max exodus out of the gym doors in a flurry of amplified voices over what they'd just heard, the group of students who'd played the largest part in defeating Royal Pain not even two years ago all turned in towards each other.

"Gwen had a following?" Will asked, face pale. "How could the Bureau have missed that?"

"It sounds more like she was part of some sort of villain corps, like a twisted after school club." Zach responded.

"Either way, though," Layla said, eyes painfully serious, "whatever kind of coalition this is, it must be serious for Principal Powers to call an assembly. She kept reminding us of how dangerous they were and to be safe. What do you think they're planning to do?"

Will pulled Layla tighter against him, his arm securely fastened around her shoulder, bound and determined that he'd do whatever necessary to make sure that on this go-around with evil, she'd be out of harm's way. Zach looked like he was thinking the same thing, but knew that making any such notion known to Magenta would just piss her off and make her think that _he_ thought she couldn't take care of herself. He was going to have to be smart about looking out for her. Warren was incensed; the easy manner in which he'd entered the school this morning was entirely replaced with something far more predatorial. Only Ethan seemed to be thinking constructively.

"I don't think the Bureau finds them dangerous because of what their planning, Layla," trying to voice his concerns. "I think what they find dangerous is the fact that they have no idea of their intentions. Principal Powers made it sound like a large number of villains, something akin to an organized crime group. That's rare for villains. The very nature of a villain is so self-centered that no more than a few are ever able to work together for any period of time. So they must either be related in some familial manner or all have the same goal in mind to drive them together this way."

Finding sense in Ethan's logic, the students began guessing what their motivations or obvious places for attacks would be, save one. Warren soaked up what everyone was saying, but continued in steely silence.

When Magenta noticed that the gym was almost empty except for the freshmen, she stood up and grabbed her bag. "Whatever their planning, something tells me it's going to put a serious damper on our school year." Following her down the bleachers, the group agreed, and dispersed to their homerooms.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Warren decided that sometime in these last two years of becoming friends with Will and the rest of them, he must have gotten complacent. He'd grown so used to people finally accepting (if still fearing) him for his own sake, that when he heard frantic whispers of "Baron Battle" following him at school on Tuesday, it felt like he was back to being a condemned man. Apparently that's what the most popular theory flying through the school was: Warren Peace, spawn of infamous villain Baron Battle, was going to join the ranks of the gang of villains and turn on them all.

He didn't even know where they came up with this stuff. The worst part though was what it made him want to do. While the rational part of his brain knew that he would _never_ do anything like what they were saying, he couldn't help wanting to scare and incinerate the hell out of everyone of the smug idiots who kept watching him, waiting for him to "show his true colors." And while his real friends tried to help (in vain) to distract him from the baseless gossip, Warren could only barely keep his anger in check and the fire in his arms smoldered. Add on top of that an untimely disastrous night at the Lantern and worry for his mom, Warren couldn't be bothered to be particularly friendly with anyone, and so he skipped his first trip to the Maxville Public Library since June.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

I sighed a little bit in relief when I saw Warren sulking up the sidewalk in my yard, unnecessarily worried that he wasn't just twenty-two minutes late, but in fact, not coming at all. Running back to Eric, who was fixated on the TV, I blocked his view to get him to pay attention to me.

"Okay, Eric, I'm leaving. Dad should be back in about an hour, but you can call my phone if you need me before he gets home, okay? And remember, no cutting your hair. Dad will have a fit if he comes home to find you've given yourself a mohawk again. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," he supplied, and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running out the door.

I walked out to meet Warren halfway up my walk, expecting a quick peck or at least some kind of salutation or complement, but all I got was a sullen expression. So I jumped right into the conversation, hoping to extract him from his stupor.

"Is everything okay? You didn't come the library yesterday, and now you seem like you just found out you got stuck with a month of jury duty." I questioned as I followed him down the street.

"I'm fine," he answered shortly.

_Well, this is a great start to our first date. Maybe a little quiet will draw it out of him,_ I reasoned. We reached the outskirts of downtown Maxville in what seemed like an eternity of silence. And it wasn't that comfortable silence of two people simply content to be in each other's presence, it was the silence of plaguing thoughts and general unpleasantness. Determined to improve the rapidly decreasing quality of this outing, I resigned myself to making enough conversation for the both of us.

"You know how, like a couple weeks ago, we were talking about whether or not we'd take the thrilling life with an adventurous job versus the simple life, kids, regular job, etc.? Well originally I was all for skipping out on Maxville and doing something that sounded really invigorating like espionage or becoming an internationally acclaimed archaeologist, but I saw this movie the other day that is making me think twice. The whole premise was that a huge meteor was headed directly for earth and everyone was going to die except for the ones who'd been randomly picked by the government and been allowed to stay in some doomsday fall-out shelter. Anyway, the whole time I was watching it, I just kept thinking about how terrible things happen everyday that we have no control over, and I decided that the life you really want is the life you would wish you'd had if you were huddled somewhere waiting for a meteor to end your existence. That sounds a little fatalistic, but it made me realize that although it would be really elating to be some kind of jet-set thrill seeker, at the end of that kind of life I think I'd look back and regret not having a family or being part of a community. What do you think?"

I kept glancing back up at him through my babbling, but his face continued to face straight ahead; he didn't even acknowledged that I'd spoken at all. Then he suddenly just stopped and opened the door to a kind of artsy coffee shop on a people-filled street that housed a row of apartments across the way.

Looking up at him once more, a little dejected now, I entered the café, reconciled to a disheartening date. Warren led the way up to the barista and ordered a black coffee, then turned to me expectantly, his face finally expressing something other than resentment.

"I'll take an iced coffee, please," I sighed. Warren handed me my drink, and guided us to a table against the front window, perfect for watching the people passing. And I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot of that for the next hour.

"Have you heard about the supervillains they say are gunning for Maxville?" His jaw clenched and his mouth formed a tense line.

"Are you sure you're fine? You seem…cross. Was it something at school?" I asked once more.

"No. I already told you I'm fine. So if you don't mind, can we change the subject? I don't care what we talk about. Go back to your chattering." He asserted, staring past my shoulder and out the window.

"My _chattering_? What's your problem Warren? I haven't done anything but try to salvage this doomed date."

"I don't have a problem. Sorry that I called it "your chattering" okay? It's just that it's getting a little…incessant."

"Ouch," I uttered, hurt and increasingly irate.

"Oh, come on," he sneered, making eye contact with me for the first time today. "Fine. You haven't actually reached the point where the insipid small talk becomes _incessant,_ but it's just starting to give me a headache."

Livid now I pushed back from the table, "Go to hell, Warren. I haven't done anything but try to improve _your_ mood, so don't take your anger out on me. I'm gone." I shoved the chair back under the table and stomped out of the restaurant, walking past the window out front uncontrollably furious and offended.

I couldn't have gone farther than five steps when chaos erupted. The pedestrian laden street suddenly began splitting and rifting into million different levels while the ground shook like an earthquake. Joining the screams of the people all around me came the whipping of a sharp wind, which I felt immediately after hearing it. Unable to keep my balance any longer I stumbled to the lamppost in front of the coffee shop, which was still trembling from the underground tremors.

Seeing a middle aged woman crawling along the ground to my left I released my death grip on the post, and bent down to help her up and pulled her until we could both cling to the pole. After we'd righted ourselves, we watched a flash of fire scorch the sidewalk in the spot the woman had been just seconds before. Soon it was followed by more, most of the flames hit only sidewalk and were quickly extinguished, but a few hit benches, or worse, people, and caught fire.

The shouts and screams reached hysteria around me, but my mouth refused to open. I stood there, clutching the pole, taking in the whole scene and looking for the best way to get out of the disarray. Just as Warren crossed my mind, and I began to turn around to look at him, everything stopped and a sinister stillness fell over the street, I heard a collective gasp from the people around me and frantically whipped my eyes to focus in their upwards direction.

Standing on top of the row of apartments across the street were people I'd only ever seen on the six o'clock news or in a picture on the front page of the _Maxville Star_, villains. Shivering when I heard their unsettling laughter as they surveyed the carnage below them, I found myself even more terrified by the realization that it had only taken four of them to wreak so much havoc.

"Citizens of Maxville don't worry," said the tallest of the four, masked in black and silver. "This is only a test. It's the fault of your beloved superheroes that we're here at all; remember that none of this would have happened if they would just go away. Then we'd have no reason to trouble you. But it's time for a test: let's see how many innocent bystanders have to get hurt before they can save them from trouble they've brought upon you by living here."

With that, the two men on his left, one in airy blue and the other in charcoal gray, seemed to go into action. A gale force wind shot over my head, whipping my hair in my face, and then blew out all of the glass in the apartment windows. Simultaneously, my heart stopped as I watched the apartment buildings begin to lean and shake, dust, bricks, and glass raining down. Unable to look away from the tragedy as I heard cries from inside the structures, I saw the lone girl, standing on the lead villains' right yell out in anticipation as the top of the buildings were covered in flames. Then without a second thought, the group closed in on the leader and disappeared.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Stunned by what had just happened, Warren was frozen, watching the impossible scene play out in front of him. People inside the café frenetically pulled out their phones, calling 911 and the Bureau's emergency hotline, while people outside were either running away terrified or standing, like him, as the apartments went up in flames.

But his focus snapped back in to reality when he saw the woman Emilie helped to the lamppost start screaming. She kept screaming in abandonment about saving her kids. He saw Emilie shake the women's shoulders and ask her something. After she had spoken something back, slowly sinking down the pole in despair, Warren watched as Emilie raced across the street, pushing people out of her way, and into the farthest apartment on the left.

The sight caused his whole body to tense and finally pulled him out of a trance; operating solely on instinct and adrenaline, Warren barreled out the coffee shop and went after Emilie.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**So here you go. I wasn't actually going to have time to write this until later this weekend, but my landlord is incompetent so I had to put off move-in for another day. Oh well, it gave me time to finish this. I've finished a full plot outline so all of the characters are being flushed out a little more. I think I've read over it so much that I can not longer judge accurately whether or not I am completely satisfied with this chapter. Hope it's as good as it looks in my mind.**

**Let me know what you think.**


	4. Confront the Citizen

Warren saw the people running passed him as he crossed towards the apartment building he'd just seen Emilie run into, an apartment building that housed a growing conflagration

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Warren saw the people running passed him as he crossed the street towards the apartment building he'd just seen Emilie run into, an apartment building that housed a growing conflagration. And Warren saw the façade of the building slowly crumbling, pieces hitting the pavement, but Warren couldn't hear a thing. It was as if someone had simply pressed a mute button on his world, silencing all external noise so that his own thoughts seemed amplified in contrast.

_Emilie_ was his mantra, repeating her name over and over again, but the pattern was becoming increasingly more integrated with every foul word he could remember until he couldn't tell if he was cursing the fire or her anymore.

When he finally reached the entrance to apartment, he felt a wave of heat wash over him, coursing out of the open front door. The inside of the building looked like a war zone, but Warren saw it out of his peripheral, his focus only allowing him to assess the damage enough to know that in just a few minutes he would not only have to worry about the fire, but also about the building collapsing. Tearing up the stairs he felt the temperature rise with every step, and by the time he reached the third floor, the smoke was so dense he could only see to about ten feet in front of him. He called out her name continually until his voice cracked from the strain. As he turned on the platform he was on, preparing to race up the flight of stairs that would lead him to the fourth floor, Warren heard someone cough and wheeze out a feeble "help."

He hesitated for only a minute, looking up at the stairs that would take him one flight closer to Emilie before turning to head off down the hallway toward the sound of the voice. He made it only a third of the way when he made out a figure huddling to his left, holding her shirt over her mouth and clinging to the wall as if willing herself to escape through the sheetrock. By the time Warren's arms encircled her, carrying her back toward the stairs, he'd discovered she was middle-aged and heavy. When he made it to the stairs he set her down, and looked at her, gauging her injuries.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hoping the answer was affirmative, so he could go back for Emilie. Emilie who he knew had to be farther up, even closer to the growing fire.

"Thank you. Thank you." She repeated, but didn't move, just stood there clutching his arm.

"Look," Warren said, grabbing her wrist tightly and giving it a rough shake as he pulled it off his arm. "Can you get down the stairs? There is some else still up there!"

She nodded, eyes still as wide as saucers. "Yes, I'm fine. Go." And with that she turned, and seizing the stair rail, began thundering down toward the ground floor.

The second he saw her move away, Warren turned and began his dash in the other direction, frantically trying not to decipher how long Emilie had been in the hazardous building, and how the risk increased with every second. He tore up the stairs to the fourth floor, and called out her name when he reached it. He took a few steps into the hallway, yelling as loud as he could for her, but no answer came. His mind whirring, Warren could feel his hands heating up as horror began infiltrating all the areas of his brain, including the ever constant attention he paid to controlling his powers. But nothing came close to stopping his feet; he pounded up the stairs, urging his body to move faster.

"Come on. Keep going, we're almost there." He heard, intermingled with searing coughs, only a half a flight ahead of him.

"Emilie!" Warren yelled, as she came into view. She held a crying toddler in one arm, and pulled a little boy along with the other hand. All three were covered in ash and dust and coughing with every breath. Warren's air rushed out of him in relief when he saw Emilie's watering eyes latch onto his.

A crash sounded from the ceiling above them, causing debris to rain down on them. Acutely aware that the apartment's framework couldn't take much more, Warren threw the skinny five year old under his left arm, and reached out with his right to grab Emilie's hand. Once he knew both were holding on tightly, Warren ran back down the steps, leading Emilie and the toddler out of the inferno and out onto the street.

The minute they'd reached the safety of the pavement, Warren felt his right arm being pulled down and then released. He turned to see Emilie, collapsed on the street, still holding the screaming toddler to her and gasping for air. Instinctively, Warren stood next to her, keeping watch.

Warren took in the scene around him, everything having drastically changed in the minutes he'd been in the building. The police had pushed the crowds back and formed a barricade, keeping everyone off of the empty street in which they were now standing. Firemen were out in droves trying to extinguish the flames, and amidst all of the chaos were superheroes, every one of them pitching in to help. Warren recognized Will's parents among the other heroes he'd seen before.

Turning back to Emilie when he felt her grab his arm to stand up, Warren's anger at her foolish act flared back into life. He couldn't even look at her. He picked up the boy again, and headed toward the masses. Passing through the line of policemen, all of whose attention was attached to the effective containment of the fire in front of them, Warren scanned the crowds until he saw the woman to whom the children belonged. Pushing through the people packed onto the sidewalk, he stopped at the woman.

"Momma!" The kid struggled in his arms, and the second his feet hit the ground he ran to his crying mother.

"Jason! Jeffie!" their mother responded, crying in earnest now but a smile covering her face. Warren watched as the mother took the baby from Emilie's arms, and pulled both kids as tight to her as possible.

"My babies. Oh, my boys. You're alright? Thank you," the mother rushed out, but not taking her eyes off of her kids once, her hands fumbling over them, as if making sure they were really there. Warren shook his head at Emilie, who was crying and smiling along with the mom, then grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly after him.

"Warren! Ouch, Warren stop! Where are you taking me?" Warren heard Emilie yell at him but he didn't slow. Stopping in front of an ambulance, Warren nodded to the EMTs.

"She needs to be checked out."

Arms folded across his chest, Warren watched with narrowed eyes as one of the men looked Emilie over for problems.

"You look pretty good, we've just got one burn that needs to be treated," the man responded, pulling out the necessary materials from his kit.

"Really?" Emilie asked. "Where?"

"The back of your right arm, burned right through your sweater." He picked up a pair of scissors and cut off the right sleeve just below her shoulder.

"Damn, this was my favorite cardigan, too." Emilie sighed as she smiled at the EMT.

He chuckled in return, but both turned in surprise when Warren punched the open ambulance door.

"Goddammit, Emilie, really? You're thinking about your clothes? You could've been killed by that stupid stunt." Warren fumed as he yelled at her.

Emilie held his gaze stoically as the now extremely uncomfortable EMT finished treating her.

"Thank you," she smiled at him tightly. Standing, Emilie walked to where Warren was pacing.

"Look. See, no harm done. I'm fine, no reason to blow up," she stated calmly.

Warren's gaze caught Emilie's for just a second and she flinched involuntarily when she saw the intensity there; without so much as a word, Warren's hand tightly encircled her left wrist and she felt herself being yanked through the throngs of people.

_What the hell is his problem?_ Emilie thought to herself._ He's blowing this whole thing way out of proportion, time to lighten up._

"Jeez Warren, where's the fire?" Emilie shouted as he kept racing on. Her attempts at humor had the opposite effect she'd been hoping for: Warren threw back a glare and turned down an empty shallow alley.

Finally releasing his vice grip on her wrist, Warren turned to face Emilie.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Emilie!? That is the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my entire life! Are you incapable of rational thought?" Emilie stepped back from the heat of his anger and the bite to his words but didn't back down.

"What was I _thinking_? Warren, the woman said her kids were alone in the apartment! What was I supposed to do?"

"Wait for the damn police and heroes, that's what."

"Come on! Even on a good day it takes them a minute or so to get here. What should I have done, just wait while those kids burned to death!?"

"Damn it, Emilie," Warren yelled as he stalked towards her, then punched the brick wall to her left. Jumping at his actions, Emilie recovered and faced him, hands on her hips.

"Chill out, War-"

"You're a citizen! Can't you just wait for the fucking heroes like everyone else does!?"

"Would you have waited?" Emilie yelled out the accusation.

Warren stopped his pacing, walked toward her and stopped a yard in front of her. Emilie only had a moment to wonder if she'd just made the situation worse before Warren spoke, his voice a deadly calm, all of his anger simmering just below every syllable.

"No, I damn well wouldn't have. But that's because I can do this," and his eyes never leaving hers, Warren ignited his hands and let the fire seep up his arms. Riveted to her green eyes, Warren watched as they widened at what they saw. Anger, understanding, and something played out in them. He let the fires go out until his hands looked just as they had moments before.

As they'd become friends and more, Warren had thought about what it would be like if he ever told her about his power. He'd envisioned it several different ways. He'd learned that her reactions were always verbal when she learned something new; she talked about it, she asked questions about it, or sometimes she just made loud exclamations. So, upon learning that he was a Super, Warren assumed that she'd either be completely pissed that he'd never told her or be so surprised that she'd let out a scream. But Warren was completely unprepared for Emilie's actual response.

Emilie's shoulders slumped, her hands fell listlessly by her side, and she looked remorsefully up at Warren.

"I don't even know what to say."

And with that, Emilie turned and walked out of the alley and back down the sidewalk in the general direction of her home.

Emilie was a little shocked at just how numb she felt. She could only compare it to the way it felt when you only had four minutes at the grocery store but you needed a million things and you left the list at home; she felt like her brain had short-circuited, as if there was so much to think about that her mind just refused to think at all.

_Warren is a Super. Warren yelled at me. Warren saved me. Warren was rude all day. Warren made sure I was okay. Warren punched a brick wall. Warren's hands burst into flames. Warren never told me. Warren is always warm. Warren can't control his anger. _

Emilie walked onward, as her mind kept flying through simple sentences, every one of them starring Warren as the subject, but each with a different connotation.

She stopped still on the sidewalk when one particularly harrowing thought emerged.

_Mom. _

The three letter word shook Emilie down to her roots. Shaking off the guilt and grief that accompanied the word and all that it meant, Emilie continued towards her house, now trying to avoid all of her thoughts until one more caused her to pause.

_Warren hasn't come after me._

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

The group knew something was wrong with Warren. He'd spent the last half of the week alternatively moping and fuming. Knowing Warren well enough to know that pestering him about what was wrong would only land you with singed eyebrows, everyone decided to just give him his space hope that he would cool down by Monday.

But when Monday morning crawled around and Warren snapped at the smallest thing, Ethan decided it was time to stage an intervention.

Warren sat at his lunch table alone and tried to read his book. He couldn't make it more than a page at a time before he would throw it down, cursing his mind for always expecting to hear her voice ask him some stupid question. After tossing aside his book for the fourth time, Warren was joined at the table by Will, Layla, Ethan, Magenta, and Zach, all who looked at him expectantly.

Ignoring their gazes, Warren looked out one of the windows, and missed Layla nudging Will.

"So… uh, Warren… we-" Magenta kicked Will under the table. "I mean, I. I am… uh worried about you."

Warren locked his sullen eyes on Will. "Worried?"

"Well, you've been temperamental since Thursday." Zach tried.

"I am not temperamental." Warren shot a glare at Zach and reached once more for his book.

"Fine then, you must be PMSing. Whatever the hell is wrong, either tell us so we can help or get over it. There are bigger things to worry about right now," Magenta jumped in, referring to the two other attacks that happened over the weekend in Maxville.

"She's right, you know." Ethan added, and looked back at him aloof.

Warren looked at them for a moment and then felt even worse than he had before lunch started, if that was even possible. These were his friends, the only ones he'd ever really had. The ones that already put up with his general lack of enthusiasm on a daily basis, and with Emilie gone, alienating them would be disastrous. Not to mention that he'd actually miss them.

Layla interrupted his thoughts. "It has something to do with Emilie, doesn't it?"

He nodded, letting everyone know that the hippie had once again, accurately assessed his situation with Emilie.

"Bros before hos." Zach said. Magenta punched him in the arm and rolled her eyes at him, while Warren just looked back at him, trying to decide which course of action to take.

"Don't worry, it's nothing. It was a bad day. We just decided to, you know, go separate ways," Warren told his friends. It might not have been the whole truth, but he was determined that even though he couldn't stop arguing with himself about Emilie, he wasn't going to get his friends messed up in his problems.

Feigning a concerned look on his face, Warren looked back at his friends, "So what's the latest news about the Villains?"

Glad to put the subject behind them, the gang launched into a heavy discussion about the criminals plaguing Maxville. But while everyone debated the supervillains' endgame, Layla munched on her salad and looked at Warren thoughtfully.

_Something just doesn't quite add up here_, she thought to herself. _And if I can't get the whole story from Warren, I'll just have to go to the other source. _

**So the cat's out of the bag. What happens next? Review and I pinky promise I'll tell you. The characters are about to learn that life only gets tougher. **

**Protector of Canon2- I hope this is the story for you!**

**Matchbox Dragon- thanks so much for the review; the changing pov was totally confusing, so I'm going with 3****rd**** person from now on, that way I can voice everyone's thoughts and experience the thrill of being omniscient**

**Three2raise-well he hasn't pulled his head out of his bum yet, but he's a guy what can you expect**

**SilverMoon Gypsy- more thoughts from Emilie and Warren soon. Hope this chapter was to your liking**

**Lalunafour-yay to you for being the first to review; I needed that vote of confidence!**

**Now join these esteemed contemporaries of yours and review this chapter please.**


	5. Regard the Citizen

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Layla?" Emilie asked, having to do a double take down the horticultural aisle in the library on her Tuesday shift.

"Hi, Emilie," she answered and walked toward her.

"Can I help you look for something?" Emilie asked her. It had been almost a week since that fateful date with Warren, and have neither seen nor heard hide or hair of him, Emilie was more than a little startled by Layla's sudden appearance.

"Yes, actually," Layla started, and gave Emilie a small heartfelt smile. "But not with a book."

"Oh."

"What happened on Wednesday, Emilie? Warren is a mess."

Layla looked at her imploringly, and Emilie signed, knowing that talking it through with Layla might actually help her make sense of Warren's irrational anger. Smiling back at her, Emilie walked a few steps into the aisle and sat down, motioning for Layla to join her.

"Wednesday was a disaster," Emilie laughed dryly. "Literally. How much has Warren told you?"

Layla composed herself, knowing that she was going to have to tread carefully to get the full story out of Emilie.

"Almost nothing, he changes the subject any time someone brings a topic even remotely related to it up. But I know he's torn up about something because he's even more irritable than usual, so I came to you."

"That's where the problem started, his stupid temper." Emilie related the story of their date, from its awful start up to the return of the kids to their mother. Layla listened quietly, and finally responded.

"You guys were at the attack? He didn't say a thing about it, not a word. Why wouldn't he tell us that?" Layla turned back to Emilie, who was squirming a little under her gaze.

"Because of what happened afterwards." Layla just kept looking at her.

"He… um, well he showed me his powers."

"He told you?"

"Yes, but don't worry, I won't breath a word about you all to anyone, I swear." Emilie rushed out. She'd wondered all week about the people she'd eaten with at the Paper Lantern, coming to the conclusion that they also had to be Supers. She just hoped that they would trust her to keep their secret.

Her worries were assuaged when Layla smiled back at her. "Oh, I'm not worried about that at all, I don't think Warren would have told you if he didn't believe he could trust you."

"I don't know about that," Emilie said, unconvinced by Layla's reasoning. "He was so mad; he might not have meant to show me. He was just such an ass all day. First he was grumpy and rude, and then afterward, in the alley, he was fuming, unreasonably mad. It would be one thing if he'd have told me what was going on, at least I would have known if I was the reason he was angry. And I know this isn't fair, and that all of your secrets are kept hidden for a reason, it just feels a little like betrayal that he never told me in the past four months." Emilie sagged against the shelves, most of the pent up frustration gone from her system.

Layla patted Emilie's knee, silently concurring with Emilie's sentiment that Warren could definitely be an…, well a butt, sometimes.

"Well, as far as his being cranky on your date, well, you should know that life isn't particularly easy for Warren at school right now. In fact, you know the whole group of villains who are terrorizing Maxville, now? Well, our school, Sky High, is a little on edge because of it, and for Warren it's particularly bad." Layla didn't how much was hers to reveal, but knew that the more Emilie understood, the more she'd be able to forgive.

"Warren has a fairly infamous supervillain in his family history, and the majority of the school is betting on his following in his relative's footsteps. He does kind of have a dangerous reputation at school, not that it's really deserved any more, but some people just see what they want to."

"Why couldn't he have just told me that?" Emilie asked, things slowly falling into place.

"Who can decipher the puzzle that is Warren Peace?" Layla just smiled back, her joke evoking a meager grin from Emilie. But her smile was quickly replaced by a more somber look.

"Sorry for dumping all of this on you. It just feels a little bit like Warren and I were finished before we even got a chance to try. But thanks for clearing some things up." Emilie apologized to Layla, and pushed her self up so she was standing.

"No worries," Layla took Emilie's offered hand and pulled herself up. "Warren's just sensitive about things, but I wouldn't write him off so quickly- you never really know what he's going to do next." With that, Layla headed out, leaving Emilie to her books and thoughts.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

"Warren!"

Warren looked up from the book he was reading while waiting for class to start on Wednesday to see an angry Layla marching toward him. _Fantastic_, he thought to himself. _What now?_

He looked up at her, waiting for the dam to break.

"You were at the attack on the apartments?" Layla cornered him.

"What? How did you-"

"Emilie." She crossed her arms as she dropped that bomb on him.

"Oh." He wanted to ask about her, but his pride and Layla's voice stopped him.

"Yeah, but the attack isn't why I wanted to talk to you. You can tell _all_ of us about it later. No, I wanted to tell you that you are being stupid. You really like her Warren, and I know because you wouldn't have revealed your powers otherwise, not to mention that you haven't been able to concentrate on anything since Wednesday, and you know what- she likes you too. So you have two options here. One, you can continue to be stupid and mope around when we both know you'll just keep thinking about her, or two, you can grow a pair and go talk to her!" Layla felt a little out of breath from her outburst but kept all the ferocity she could muster in the gaze held on him.

Stunned a little by the strength of the hippie's accusation and the fact that she'd just said "grow a pair," it took Warren a minute to take it all in.

Layla took his silence for confusion and helped him out a little bit more. "She really does like you, you know. And I tried to explain why you were in such a foul mood to begin the date with, even though you really shouldn't have acted like such a baby. But if you'd just go talk to her, I think you two can make up." She smiled at him encouragingly.

"Thanks." Warren managed.

"No thanks needed. Consider this my payback for your helping me with Will freshman year." She smiled at him and flounced off toward the front doors of the school, knowing she'd already done a good thing today.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Emilie had been running her last encounter with Warren and the conversation with Layla over and over again in her mind for almost forty-eight hours. It had only brought her to one frustrated conclusion: she needed to talk to Warren. Having made up her mind to storm down to the Paper Lantern at the end of her shift at the library, Emilie was having a hard time finding any meaning in the task at hand.

She picked up the next book on her cart, Gone with the Wind. Emilie groaned, she was in the S's, so Margaret Mitchell's novel was woefully out of order.

Emilie eyed the romantic portrayal of Scarlett and Rhett on the cover spitefully, and then shoved the novel in between the author's Steven and Stevenson. Noting how her small act of rebellion made her feel a little better, Emilie grabbed the next book on her cart and purposefully put it in the wrong spot, enjoying every minute of breaking the rules. Getting caught up in her destruction of the annoyingly perfect order of the library, Emilie nearly jumped a foot when she heard a familiar "Hey."

Clutching the novel in her hand, Emilie turned around to find Warren standing on the other side of her cart.

"Hey." Emilie replied, feeling both happiness and aggravation filling her. _He looks good_, she thought, noting the leather jacket pulled tight across his shoulders because of his crossed arms. _If I wasn't so pissed off/ confused as hell/ and just generally upset by him, I'd have a hard time keeping my hands to myself. He'd better have a damn good apology._

"I thought we should talk," he stated, eyes locked onto hers.

"I'm listening," Emilie responded, mimicking his stance.

"Sorry I was rude on the date, I had a lot on my mind."

"And?" Emilie raised her eyebrows at him.

"And what?" Warren said, his voice teetering on the edge of impatience.

"You're kidding, right? Warren, I get that you were an ass at the start of the date because some stuff at school, but you didn't have to take it out on me. I get it, life's tough, get a blog. But you yelled at me for helping people out! Then you punched a brick wall near my head. Do you have anything to say about _that_?" Emilie fired back in her loudest whisper; they were in a library after all.

Warren just looked at her and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. _Women_. Trying to control his vitriolic objection he answered her.

"You ran into a burning building. How the hell was I supposed to react? You could have been hurt, or killed! What would have happened if you _had_ been hurt? What would I have said to your father? What would your little brother do?" _What would I have done?_ Warren added silently, surprised at the involuntary question.

He saw her biting her lip in thought, but white-knuckled grip on the book still in her hands betrayed her tense inner turmoil. Warren sighed and leaned against the shelves, not sure if he could look at her when he brought up the next part.

"And then I told you. I told you about my powers and you just walked off. What the hell does that mean?" He glanced back at her at the end.

Emilie wondered how he could be so calm while she was frantically trying to form sentences to match her thoughts. _He yelled because he was worried? Right? That's what it sounded like. And maybe he's right about his powers. I've been keeping things from him to._

Emilie leaned one shoulder against the same shelf as Warren so she was facing him, and took a deep breath.

"You know how I told you that my mom died? I don't know if you remember but about five, almost six years ago, there was an attack at the Maxville Elementary School. My mom was a kindergarten teacher there," Emilie felt her eyes start to water, but her voice remained tranquil. She couldn't remember the number of times her dad had recited this story, pride and pain reflected in every retelling.

Emilie caught Warren looking back at her intently, and gave him a wan smile. "While they were evacuating the school, a couple of my mom's students got caught in the crossfire. There were two villains." Warren felt his body tense, anticipating the worst. He really didn't want to address _that_ problem at this particular point in time. He relaxed when she continued.

"One controlled the winds and caused tornados and such while the other could make things spontaneously explode. The heroes were trying to fight back, but caused some destruction, albeit unintentional, of their own. After she'd gotten all but the two kids to safety my mom went back for them. When it was all over, they found the three of them, all alive, but my mom just barely. She'd covered the two kids with her body, trying to block them from the flying damage. She died on the way to the hospital.

"All that to say, I walked away because… well, it is kind of a lot to throw on a girl, especially on the first date." Emilie smiled up at Warren, trying to lighten the mood.

"I guess I was just shocked," she tried to explain. "It was about the last thing I was expecting. Then I kept wondering why you hadn't told me before, but that's dumb because it's a huge deal, and you had to be careful about keeping it a secret. And then the whole thing with my mom, I just freaked a little. I don't think you really even wanted to know all that. I should just stop talking. You came _here_, _you _talk." Emilie let out a deep breath and leaned her head against the books dejectedly.

"Do you want to come to Homecoming with me?" He watched as her eyes flew open and looked at him in utter confusion.

"What?"

"Do you, Emilie, want to attend the Homecoming Dance, on Halloween, at Sky High, the school I attend for people with superpowers, with me, the person standing in front of you?" Warren said slowly his gaze trained steadily on hers.

Emilie's eyes narrowed. "You really suck at apologies."

"So is that a yes?" Warren gave her a small smile.

"On two conditions, if something is up just tell me, and Warren-the-jerk-from-Wednesday never shows his ugly mug again."

Warren shrugged, "Never heard of him." He caught her grin, and felt a huge weight lifted from him.

"Want me to help you shelve?"

"Don't you have to work tonight?" Emilie asked just glad to have her old Warren back.

"No, the Cho's are having some family party there so the restaurant's closed for the evening." Warren picked up the next book on the cart, and noting the author began looking for the right spot to put it in.

Emilie smiled at Warren hunched over shelving books with her like it was the most important thing he'd done all day. She blushed a little when he pulled out a book from the shelf and turned to catch her staring.

"Why is there an M in with the S's?" Warren asked and help up Gone with the Wind.

Emilie stepped closer so she could grab the book out of his hand, and grinned sheepishly up at him. "Some people are such slobs."

Warren caught the guilty wrinkling of Emilie's nose and knew there was more to that story, but frankly at the moment he didn't care. He pushed a flyaway red curl behind her ear, then tilted her chin up towards him.

As his lips brushed against hers, Emilie pulled her body against his and marveled again at the sudden warmth she felt whenever she touched him. A new thought crossed her mind; _I wonder if the heat is part of his power_. Warren nibbled her bottom lip, causing her to gasp. He took advantage of her parted lips and covered them again with his. _I'll ask later_, Emilie conceded and gave into the kiss.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**So happy together. I love Layla in this chapter. The next chapter is actually almost done, and it is one of my favorites because it's mostly happy! Please review, I want to know what you think about the story and it generally makes me want to write more. So the more reviews the faster I update, promise. Thanks for reading.**


	6. Tease the Citizen

Emilie smiled to herself as she tugged her jacket closer to ward off the October chill

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Emilie smiled to herself as she tugged her jacket closer to her to ward off the October chill. She and Warren were together (figuratively, but also literally as often as possible), and Maxville had been having that perfect fall weather for a week now. And Emilie was currently walking to meet Warren and everyone else at the Sky High bus stop, for the purpose of going to study with them at Will's house. _Happy Columbus Day to me_, she thought happily, almost skipping down the rest of the block.

Warren got off the bus to see Emilie just few steps away. When she reached him, he gave her a quick kiss before she snuggled into his chest, basking in his unnatural warmth.

"Mmm, my little blast furnace." Emilie sighed, drawing laughs from Will, Layla, Ethan, Magenta and Zach. Warren glared half-heartedly at them, most of his focus on the redhead in his arms.

"You're going to pay for that little nickname, you know," he said in mock threat.

Emilie pulled away so she could grab his hand, and smirked back at him, "Yeah, yeah."

"So," she smiled at the rest of the group. "Who is up for a little studying?"

Zach and Magenta groaned in unison.

"Will, are you sure it's alright with your parents that I come over?" Emilie asked, she didn't want to have the Stronghold's surprised when they found out she was powerless.

"Yeah, it's cool. Come on." Will picked Layla's books out of her hands so he could clasp one of them and led the way.

Josie Stronghold welcomed them all in when they reached Will's house, and Emilie knew she liked her right away. She seemed so June Cleaver. She'd set out snacks on the coffee table in the living room and greeted everyone individually.

"And you must be Emilie," she said. "It's so nice to meet you, I'm Josie." Emilie freed her hand from Warren's to shake Josie's outstretched one.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you too. Thanks for having me over." Josie smiled back in response, and ushered them all into the living room before telling Will she had houses to show and that she'd be home later.

Emilie watched contentedly as her friends settled in and reveled in the scent of homemade cookies. Ethan took the place of high honor during homework and sat in the overstuffed chair in the middle of the room. Layla and Will opted for the floor, and moved some of the snacks off of the coffee table to make room for their textbooks. Emilie nudged Warren in the side and nodded toward Zach and Magenta, who were trying to sit as close as humanly possible on the love seat. Grinning back at her, Warren pulled over to the empty couch. Everybody groaned as Ethan began reading out the first problem.

Emilie felt inexcusably giddy; she felt gloriously thankful for everything. She pulled off her jacket, since sitting practically on top of Warren caused her temperature to escalate, and put her French book and notepad in her lap, intending to study but satisfied with listening to everyone argue about the answers to their work.

However, after laughing through Zach's twenty minute debate about how his ability to glow would help him take down their Coach Boomer, Emilie decided to start in on her own work. She flipped through her notepad until she found the part of today's notes she'd written down when she wasn't daydreaming. She saw the doodle at the top of the page the same time Warren did, and quickly covered it with her hands.

"Wait, what did that say?" he looked back at her, teasing.

"Nothing," Emilie answered quickly, turning beet red, and pushing her hands down on the page even harder.

"Oh, no, I think that definitely said something." Warren reached for her hands laughing at her.

"No! Warren, stop! It doesn't say anything I swear." Emilie squealed trying to hold the notebook out of his grasp, but keeping her hands covering the scribbles. She was leaning halfway over the arm of the couch, notepad stretched far away from Warren who was reaching behind her, shaking with laughter.

The rest of the group watched them now, smiling to see Emilie so embarrassed and enjoying seeing one of Warren's rarer happy moments, but moments that seemed to have increased in frequency since having met Emilie.

Emilie reached a little farther and tore the page out of the spiral, then barreled out of Warren's grasp and dashed behind Ethan's chair. She was blushing and laughing as she held out a hand to signal Warren to stop, for he'd jumped up to catch her.

"Will, quick! Where is your trashcan? Or a match? Quick!" Emilie yelled. But while her attention was distracted, Warren had closed in on her. In a quick second, he had her pinned to him with one arm and was trying to pull the now wadded slip of paper out of Emilie's hand, but she'd be damned if Warren ever got his hands on such incriminating evidence.

"Layla! Magenta! Help!" Emilie yelped, struggling to escape. Unfortunately, her female cohorts were similarly detained by their male counterparts when they tried to come to her rescue. Ethan just laughed at rolled his eyes at the three couples' roughhousing.

In one quick movement, Warren pulled the piece of paper from Emilie's hand. Holding the trophy high out of Emilie's reach, Warren cleared his throat.

" 'Emilie hearts Warren.' Isn't that cute?" He smiled at her, enjoying every shade of red her face was turning, and mentally resolving to put the scrap of paper in his pocket when he was done tormenting her with it.

"I didn't write it," Emilie said, waving it away, but unable to keep herself from grinning.

"Too bad," Warren sighed, turning back to the couch. "I guess I'm just going to have to find this _other_ Emilie and tell her that I finally got the official okay to take her to Homecoming."

Emilie turned back at him beaming, _Yup, life is completely perfect._ She sat back down on the couch where Warren was back to playing it cool, but he put his arm around her shoulder pulling her close.

Layla's attention left her struggle with Will, and she cheered, "It is going to be so much fun! Emilie you should see Magenta's dress it's amazing! And I've been helping the decorating committee with some of the decorations, and there are going to be pumpkins everywhere. It's going to be a fantastic Halloween!"

"I can't wait," Emilie smiled catching on to Layla's enthusiasm.

Magenta started saying something, but was interrupted with Josie Stronghold burst through the front door and raced up stairs. "There's been another attack," she shouted down. "This one is at the hospital; too many of the patients aren't capable of getting out of the building themselves. I'll be back." The group only caught a flash of her as Jetstream before she flew out the door.

Will grabbed the remote and turned the TV onto the news station that was broadcasting the siege at the county hospital.

"The attacks are happening more often," Ethan noted. "If they keep happening at this rate, the casualty list is only going to grow." Everyone nodded at his irrefutable logic, and kept their eyes glued to the TV where the reporter was relaying the story from the beginning. According to her sources, it started in a similar manner as all of the other strikes. The Villains swooped in, gave the same message to the civilians about forsaking their Heroes, and then caused the maximum amount of damage possible before dashing off.

"How much longer do you think before the citizens start to question if keeping us around would be in their best interest?" Will asked, worried.

Everyone slowly looked at Emilie.

"I don't know," Emilie defended. "I mean, _I _know that we wouldn't stand a chance to beat them without you guys here, and I'm sure that most people agree with me, but there will be a few who start to wonder. The attacks are so random that you just don't know if you or someone you know will be in the next one." Emilie paused for a second, and then voiced her question.

"Have you guys found out anymore about them? Is there an end in sight?" Emilie looked back at them hopefully.

Zach looked down dejectedly, "We haven't heard anything; we know as much as everyone else. The Bureau might know more."

"Surely they have leads though. This has been going on for more than a month, the Bureau must know something." Ethan added reassuringly, his complete faith in the powers that be.

"Look," Layla pointed back to the TV. "They've fixed the building. She said they're just working now to get everyone out!"

"Still haven't caught even one of the Villains though," Magenta complained.

Emilie leaned into Warren and said, "I think I should head home. Eric's there alone, and I don't want him to worry or anything." Warren nodded and they both began to pack their stuff. When they stood to leave Emilie smiled at everyone, "We're going to head off, but I'll see you guys on Friday at the Lantern." They said their goodbyes then walked towards Emilie's house, Warren's arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist.

"Never a dull day in Maxville anymore," Emilie commented, having learned that if she waited too long to bring up a darker subject like this, Warren wouldn't talk at all.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Oh, and I remembered something that Layla mentioned a while ago, and I wanted to ask you about it."

"Shoot."

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, it's kind of personal. But she said you had a supervillain in your family history, is that true?" Emilie felt Warren's body temperature rise a few degrees, and was quick to retract her question.

"Nevermi-" She was cut-off.

"Yeah, my dad. That's what he's in prison for," Warren explained looking straight ahead.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Emilie comforted and leaned in a little closer to him.

"That's it?" Warren stopped, and looked at her.

"Yeah, should there be more?" Emilie asked confused.

"What about your mom? Don't you want to know if my dad did it? Don't you wonder if I'm going to be a villain too, since my dad was?" He blamed her.

"Warren," Emilie started, completely taken back by this confrontation. "My mom died about six years ago, and this summer you said your dad has been in prison for the past fifteen. So unless you lied about that, which I'm pretty sure you didn't, I know he didn't do it. As for your being a villain, the thought never crossed my mind."

"What?" Warren asked flatly, as if he'd never heard that statement before.

"I said you can't be a villain. Anyone who picks up his girlfriend so she doesn't have to walk through puddles and cooks dinner for his mom cannot be a villain. It's just not possible." Emilie smiled back up at him, wanting to avoid any unsavory subjects on what had been an almost perfect day. "Now can we please talk about something more fun, like Homecoming?"

He wrapped his arm around her again and continued walking. "Okay, what is there to talk about?"

Emilie rolled her eyes, "Everything! Should we coordinate our outfits?" She caught Warren's look of complaint and laughed, "Okay okay, we won't match! Then I will find something this week. Do you know what you're going to wear then?"

Warren just looked back at her. "Isn't it enough if I wear a tux?" Emilie laughed and replied, "Ask Layla, but it sounds fine to me. What time do you want to pick me up? 'Cause you know, you have to come in and meet my dad before we leave."

"I'm really not good with dads." Warren warned, but he knew he didn't have choice. "Fine, I'll be there at seven, and then we'll go over to Will's to meet up with everyone else and let Layla get her picture obsession over with, and then finally, get to the dance. Sound good?"

"Perfect," Emilie agreed. Warren half-smiled down at her, and the two continued their walk down the tree-lined suburban street, all thoughts of villains and attacks pushed to the farthest recesses of their minds.

**Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Emilie had spent the last week and a half scouring every boutique she could find for a dress, and as she looked in the mirror now she knew she picked the right one. The dress was a strapless warm cream creation with tiny gold stitches and it fulfilled the one requirement Emilie had had about dresses since she was four: it was a good twirler. She finished the last touches of her makeup, pulled the front sections of her hair back with some pretty combs and let the rest of the curls fall past her shoulders, then stepped back for a final judgment. _For the amount of glitter and time it took for me to look like this Warren had better love it._

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Emilie scrambled in a mad dash to put on her shoes and beat her father to the door. Skidding the last few feet and passing her dad at the door to his office, Emilie opened the door to see Warren.

_Mmmmmm_, Emilie thought eyeing him up and down. He was in a tux and his hair fell rakishly to his shoulders. _He cleans up well, like a naughty James Bond._ Grinning, Emilie stepped back so he could step inside, and spun around. "What do you think?"

His gaze slid down her frame, then came to rest again on her face. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear she'd developed the power to glow.

"Beautiful." Emilie blushed at the praise. Warren's eyes finally saw the man off to the left.

"Hi…sir. I'm Warren." He walked toward him to shake his hand. The man just looked back at him scrutinizing. Warren looked to Emilie for help.

"Dad," Emilie drew out threateningly. He signed and smiled at her.

"I just wanted to see what he'd do under pressure," he shook Warren's hand now. "Carson. So you go to the magnet school, huh? And that's where the dance is? The dance that you will have her home at eleven…" Emilie punched him in the arm, and he smiled at her. "Okay, twelve. The dance that you will have her home at midnight from?"

Warren nodded back at the guy. At least he wasn't the only one Emilie had managed to wrap around her finger. "That's the one."

Carson sighed, "Alright, get out of here. Wait, should I take pictures or something?"

"Do you even know where a camera _is_?" Emilie asked in surprise.

"No," Carson admitted. "But we could look for one."

Emilie laughed, "Don't worry we're going to go meet up with the rest of the group and take pictures there. Love you." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and led Warren to the door. When they'd left, Carson smiled at how happy his daughter looked, then went to find Eric. He was planning on watching movies with him until she got back.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Warren smiled to himself as he watched Emilie practically bounce to the door of the Sky High gymnasium, his jacket almost swallowing her whole. _Who forgets a coat when it's almost November_, he thought, shaking his head at her. Emilie stopped and smiled back at him, waiting for him to catch up before she went inside. _She's stunning._. Warren felt a surge of pride as he looked at her, glad she was his. He pulled her in for a kiss when he reached her.

Emilie smiled against his lips and stepped back playfully. "We have to go inside; you're such a slow walker that everyone off the bus beat us here. Besides, Mr. Peace, what kind of girl do you take me for?"

"My kind." Emilie laughed and opened the door to the Homecoming Dance.

_Layla wasn't kidding, this place is amazing_, Emilie thought as she tried to take in the sight that greeted her eyes. The gym was a jungle of pumpkins and fall foliage, with twinkling lights draped across the ceiling. _This sure beats the streamers and strobe lights of Maxville High's dances. _She turned back to see a vague look of approval in Warren's eyes.

Spotting the rest of the group Emilie pulled Warren over to them.

"Layla, it looks unreal. I can't believe you did all of this; it's beautiful." Emilie gushed.

"Oh, thanks, but I hardly did anything at all," Layla said modestly, but Emilie caught Will shaking his head behind her. As the three other couples wandered off to talk to other friends, Warren turned to Emilie.

"Want to go for a walk?"

Emilie grinned back at him. "No dancing?"

"Later," Warren promised intensely, taking Emilie by surprise.

"A walk sounds great. Show me around this crazy school of yours. Where does this door lead to?" Emilie said enthusiastically, pointing to a door on her right. Warren looked at it quizzically.

"I'm not actually sure."

"Then let's find out." Warren smiled at her and led her over by the hand. Opening it and ushering her through first, he shut the creaky door behind them. The hallway was dark and looked as if it could use a good cleaning but Warren spotted another door only twenty feet ahead. The second door however had warped enough to need a rough shove of his shoulder to open.

Emilie laughed at the dust he displaced, and ran through the cloud to get out the door. Warren was right behind her sneezing.

"So Magellan, where are we now?" Emilie gestured to her surroundings.

"We're…um…outside." Warren looked around, trying to figure out just where the hell they'd ended up.

Emilie stuck out her tongue at him. She followed Warren as he took a couple steps away from the building.

"Oh, hunh, we're just off the back corner of the gym. Come on." He took her hand and started walking back towards the action. He stopped after a few yards when he felt Emilie tug on his hand.

"Or," she smiled up at him mischievously. "We could, you know, _linger_ around here." She walked backwards tugging him along, until her back touched the brick wall of the school. Warren raised an eyebrow at her.

"And earlier, you were so worried about your reputation." He smirked, and leaned down to kiss her.

Emilie reveled in the feeling of the cool brick on her back and the warmth of Warren seeping in from the front. The two remained wrapped up in each other and utterly oblivious to everything else.

"Mister Peace!" Mr. Medulla reprimanded. Warren and Emilie sprung apart startled. "The school did not host this dance to give you a place to carry on your lascivious affair. So you and your date can return to the gym immediately." He lectured, taking on a superior stance with his arms folded haughtily over his chest.

Warren rolled his eyes and put his arm around Emilie, then began directing them away.

"Hmph," Warren heard Emilie snort. Confused, he looked down to see a smug expression amidst the blush on her face. She met his gaze a smirked smartly.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," Emilie said cleverly. "I know you can throw fire, blah, blah, blah, but you know if I had the power to persuade like I wanted, I could have talked Brainy back there into just walking away. Then we could have carried on."

Warren let out a short laugh, "Smart ass."

"You're just jealous that my imaginary power kicks your power's ass." She flipped her hair at him then began to walk away in mock-arrogance. Warren laughed at her, but grabbed her arm to turn her back to him.

"Okay then," he began casually. "Since you're so able to convince anyone of doing anything, what would you have me do?"

"Hmm," Emilie said. She trailed a finger lightly down his chest suggestively. Warren grinned wickedly back at her, and started to slide his hands down her waist.

"Not so fast, mister." Emilie stepped back grinning. "That was just a thought. Then I realized that would hardly take any convincing, and clearly I was right. I don't want to waste my gift, now do I? So…if I were going to bend you to my doing my will, I'd make you take me to meet your mom." She waited for his reaction.

Warren kept his gaze on her, taking it all in. Emilie meeting his mom would be a big step. _Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Hell, they'd probably get along great. _He cringed as he mentally envisioned the two leaned over his baby pictures. He saw Emilie biting her lip, waiting hopefully for his answer, and he was sold.

"Okay. Dinner." He smiled when he saw that smug look reappear on her features.

"I am _so _on the hero track."

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**This is a happy chapter (mostly), and necessary for the plot. The scene with the notebook paper and the one at the dance were two of the first things that I saw when I first thought of this story. Unfortunately, things won't stay this light. Classes started this week, so my updates might get just a little farther apart. And we get to meet Warren's mom (protector of canon2- thanks for getting me on the ball with ms.peace). **

**Review please, it means the world to me.**


	7. Hold the Citizen

Warren sat in the back of the classroom, his eyes on the book he was holding open in front of them, but every bit of his focus was on the group of girls to his left who were quietly gossiping while Medulla kept talking

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Warren sat in the back of the classroom, his eyes on the book he was holding open in front of them, but every bit of his focus was on the group of girls to his left who were quietly gossiping while Medulla kept talking.

"Frankly, I'm shocked that he had the gall to come to the dance at all," a short brunette said, and stole a quick glance over her shoulder at Warren, her face full of disdain as she eyed the subject of their conversation.

"Absolutely, and who would ever _knowingly_ go out with a villain? Did you see the girl he was with? Does she even go here?" another girl asked, looking to their leader.

Lisette thawed the ice she was idly coating her fingernails with and smirked, "I heard she some sort of homeschooler. Probably has some ridiculously embarrassing power."

A darker blond to her left cut in, "Really? I heard she was some new foreign exchange student. That her parents were French." The girl saw the icy glare from Lisette and cowered. "Probably just rumors though."

"They are," Lisette pronounced with finality. "She's just some loser Warren felt the need to make out with. I bet she's a villain too. They were probably scoping out the school so they'd know the best ways to blow it up." The girls around her drank in every word, thriving on the drama they created.

Warren's hands tensed up into fists and he felt a small fire smoldering just underneath the surface of his skin. He tried to let their words roll off his back; they were just a bunch of catty girls trying to assure themselves of their own superiority.

"He shouldn't even be allowed here." One girl said cruelly. "We all know he's working with the Villains; the teachers are just fooled because he follows Will Stronghold around. Please, we all know it's an act."

"I know," the short brunette agreed. "When my parents heard that he went here, they were furious. They said that after the disappearance of AquaAvenger, you know, Brian Anderson's dad, that the school would have cracked down on security. My mom's already called Principal Powers a ton." The girls around her voiced their accordance and glared at Warren. Warren however, was immune to the looks directed at him; his mind was reeling.

He'd heard about the mysterious disappearance of AquaAvenger on Halloween night, everyone had. Every hero anyway, the story had been front page news on _The Signal_ for the past two days. Warren hadn't known that the Hero had a kid here. That made the situation seem all the more dire. Warren filed the information away to discuss with the rest of the group later, but his first course of action when Medulla would finally stop droning on was to call to check on his mom, even though she wasn't technically a Hero anymore.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

During the middle of a school day two weeks later Principal Powers came on the P.A. with news of the Villains' most recent siege. Warren called Emilie the second he heard the news.

_Damn it, pick up your phone_. He mentally yelled into the phone, pacing the hallway between classes. He started speaking right when she picked up.

"Emilie! The elementary school's been attacked. The one Eric goes to. Have you heard anything?" He heard a deep shuddering breath on the other end.

"I know, our principal just announced it. We're all watching the news in class trying to find out what's going on. Do you not know either? We just heard there was an attack, that's it. No one seems to be able to figure out what's going on!"

He heard the worry in her frantic sentences. The depth of her possible sorrow, knowing what he did about her mother in the same situation, caused him to shut down. What could he do for her now? He couldn't go rescue her brother. He couldn't even hold her hand.

"I don't know." He said solemnly. He could just talk to her, but how could words be enough in this moment. "I'll call you if I hear anything. Call me if…when you find out he's okay. I'll pick you up from school." He disconnected and walked to class.

Halfway through his next class he got a message, and as soon as he could slip out of the room unnoticed he replayed it.

"Warren, it's Em. Eric is fine. Apparently all they did was cut off the power to the school and surround it with a force-field so that no one could get near it. No one was hurt, so…" Warren heard her voice crack. "So Eric is fine. Dad picked him up. They're making us stay at school for the rest of the day so we can all pretend like life is still normal. See you later. Thanks for calling."

Warren leaned his head against the wall. He ran his hand roughly through his hair in frustration, and looked back at the classroom. He should go back into the room. He should go back in there and not listen to the rumors slandering him. He should finish out the day like it was any other. Instead he walked out of the building.

Emilie walked down the steps from school and saw Warren waiting for her. She smiled and gave him a quick peck. Warren wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, as though he was determined to fuse their two beings into one.

"Can't…breathe," Emilie gasped and laughed when she could look back up at him. "What was that for?"

He answered her question with a question. "Are you okay?" His eyes searched hers cautiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Emilie waved his concern off nonchalantly. "Wanna walk me home? Well, actually, you don't have a choice. You're escorting me is the only reason dad's not up here with all of the other parents to pick me up." She motioned at the long line of cars in the school's lot, then turned and started down the sidewalk.

"Wait," Warren said haltingly, and turned her around to face him. "You're sure you're okay? It's okay if you need to…freak out or whatever… you know, about the thing with Eric today." He noted how her eyebrows arched defensively.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not enough of a sobbing mess for you?" She eyed him challengingly.

"Ugh, Emilie," Warren ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "It wasn't a judgment, okay? I just didn't want you to think that you had to, you know, be strong or something in front of me. I know today had to be hard for you. I'm just trying to say that I'm here if you need me." He looked past her, eyes directed towards the street, but out of his peripheral he saw the sadness that flashed across her face. It was there only for a second; not a moment later, she pushed it aside.

Emilie linked hands with him and started the walk home.

"I can't stay sad, you know," she said eyes on the path unfolding in front of her. "It doesn't do any good to stay worried or get so scared that I become like half of Maxville and just hide from the world. Eric is fine." She ended the last sentence forcefully.

"No one would think any less of you if you were scared. It's a reasonable reaction." He corrected her.

"No." Emilie looked at him. "That's how they win. Don't you get it? That's what the Villains want. They want us all to be so scared that we turn on you all. So let them come and do whatever the hell they want, they can't scare me." Warren shook his head at her irrational stubbornness.

Emilie must have caught his reaction because her next statement was purposefully confronting a touchy subject.

"You still haven't let me meet your mom."

"I know." Warren answered flatly. This wasn't the answer she wanted, and he knew that. But, frankly, it wasn't her decision to make. There was too much happening right now, and the last thing he needed was something else to think about.

"I've never even been to your house." Emilie huffed.

"I know." He heard Emilie sigh and guessed that that meant she was letting it go. He let go of her hand so he could wrap his arm around her shoulder.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Emilie picked up the latest edition of the _Maxville Star_ off the counter and headed to the reading area. Normally, she would have gone directly to the carts behind the circulation desk and shelved, but times had changed.

Emilie set her cup of hot chocolate down on the coffee table, shrugged off her winter coat, and nestled into her usual chair. She glanced up, taking in the desolate silence of the library. Maxville Public Library had never been a hubbub of human activity, but it was usually at least busy enough to provide a common soundtrack of whispers, crackling pages, and the clacking of people on the computers. That wasn't the case anymore. As November drew to a close, the town of Maxville had become relative to a ghost town. The Villains had become relentless in their attacks; they wrought floods, staged robberies, and a myriad of other heartless, pointless acts of violence, every time reiterating their message for the citizens to turn out the Heroes. And, unfortunately, it looked like people had begun to do so.

Emilie opened the paper to The List. The List was an impromptu addition to the _Star_; it listed missing persons (unknown whether they were Heroes or citizens) and casualties. Her eyes flew down the list, and she could only let out her held breath when she realized she didn't recognize any of the names. Emilie closed her eyes and leaned into the chair, seeking security and coming short.

She picked up her cocoa to sip and tried to read about the latest attack on the front page but her eyes wouldn't focus. Life just seemed a little too heavy. Maxville was empty. Empty and dreary and scared. People left their homes only out of necessity, and never alone. And the whole damn situation would just be a lot easier to deal with if she could _do_ something. But what could anyone do? The Villains ruined lives randomly and disappeared; she couldn't combat the fear she hated herself for sometimes feeling except to ignore it.

_Everyday should have some good in it, even if you have to make it yourself._ Emilie repeated her mother's favorite proverb to herself. Emilie smiled, remembering her good: she had Warren. _At least there's something happy to count on_, she reasoned. _Even if he does keep putting off my meeting his mom._

Emilie looked up when she heard the sound of footfalls, uncommonly loud in such a quiet room. Warren looked down at her and gave a small smile before motioning her to move over. She did so they could both fit snugly in the seat, and leaned back into his warm chest. She felt Warren combing his fingers through her hair and basked in the rare moment of serenity in the otherwise anarchic world.

"You're here early," Emilie commented.

"No one at the Lantern, so Mrs. Cho let me go early." Warren answered, eyes closing as he felt the tension he'd been carrying around slowly seep out of his body. He concentrated on the strands of her hair.

Over the course of a month his life had gone from stressful to damn near intolerable. He'd spent the first period of school washing off the spray painted slanders on his locker; the majority of the student body was now convinced he was abetting the Villains, despite what Will and the others told them. And with every disappearance and attack the atmosphere in the school only got worse. Then on top of that was his mother. Warren was fairly confident that she was safe from the Villains since she'd given up Hero work when his dad left, but he'd never let her know about how bad things were getting at school, or the threats he found everyday in the mailbox, telling them to get the hell out of Maxville.

"Still nothing new about the Villains?" Emilie asked out of habit. She kept her eyes closed as she leaned against his chest.

"Nothing." Warren answered in defeat. He hated the answer, and hated himself for having to give it.

Emilie just nodded into his chest; she still hoped for a change in the response but never really expected it. After a moment of stillness, Emilie's only concentration was the feeling of the rise and fall of his chest. She tried to match her own breathing to his.

Warren felt Emilie's hand settle on his chest, right over his heart. When he felt her fidgeting and her breath catch, he questioned her.

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly, unwilling to disrupt the quiet that cocooned them, buffering the two from the outside world.

"Nothing," Emilie answered looking up at him and blushing. Her need to be that intimately tied to him would sound silly and childish if she confessed it out loud.

Warren saw the melancholy in her eyes, something he'd never seen in them before and it unnerved him.

"Hey," he whispered to her, trying to draw her into his confidence so she would talk. When she just kept staring at him, Warren smoothed out the wrinkled between her eyebrows with his thumb and broached the subject himself. "You look sad."

Emilie just shrugged. She wasn't sad, at least she didn't think so. She just felt removed from life. This wasn't her life, was it? This dark gloomy realm where people didn't let their kids play outside anymore couldn't be her home.

"Would Thanksgiving dinner with me and my mom make you feel better?" He saw her eyes brighten for a second before the furrow was back between her brows.

"I can't. We're going to my grandparent's. We always do."

Warren knew that; she'd told him a week ago, but he'd hoped the possibility of the dinner, his extension of that particular olive branch would make her happy. That hadn't worked.

"A rain check then." He amended. He felt her settle back into her stupor.

"Hey," Warren tried again; this time she didn't look up. "Don't be sad. I can't take it when you're sad." He was unable to utter the phrase any louder than a murmur.

Emilie felt Warren's warmth pervade further into her, thawing her. She smiled into his chest; Warren may not be a romantic of many words, but when then he said things like that, not really poetic but heart-achingly honest, she melted.

Emerging slowly from her state of despair, Emilie sat up, now almost entirely in Warren's lap, and grinned a fraction of the smile she saved only for him. Warren looked surprised and relieved at the return of some of her general optimism.

Emilie leaned toward him until her face was but an inch from his. "What then," she started, but paused to give him a lingering kiss on the warm crook of his neck. "Are we," she brushed her lips against his jaw. "Going to do to make it all better?" Her lips caught his in a deep kiss, her hands wandering up his shirt and tracing mindless patterns on the bare skin of his stomach.

Warren pulled back to answer her, varying between words and kisses. "We…could…throw…a…party." He got one more drawn out taste of her before he felt her spring away. Warren looked up to see her beaming, possibility positively crackling off of her like electricity.

"You are a genius! We'll throw our occasionally annual Christmas Party! I can completely get my dad to agree; it used to be his favorite thing during the holidays. Layla would love to help, and Magenta and the whole group. And we can invite _everyone_; coax all of them out of their little foxholes with the allure of a sparkling, boisterous, traditional Christmas Party!" She squealed in excitement. Warren smiled knowingly to himself; Emilie may not be able to physically beat off the Villains, but she sure as hell wasn't going to get beat down by them.

He watched as her mind and mouth flew through a list of things they needed to do, people they needed to invite and plans for decoration. Warren felt his face give way to a genuine smile; this party would probably turn out to be a long damn night for him but if it made her this happy, he'd let her drag him to a party every day of the week.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**So there is the chapter, a quick moment to react before life gets chaotic again. Sorry this took me so long to get out, but it was the first two weeks of school. And that means back to school parties, old friends, and since I live in Texas, the start of the football season! The next chapter should be up in the first part of this week. I'm excited about what's going to happen next! Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. They were amazing! I felt so bad that I couldn't get the chapter up faster for you all after every review. They did make me work harder though, which I am grateful for. **

**This is the first story of this length I have ever written, so every review helps me know if I'm getting things write, or if I forget something. So please review.**


	8. Keep the Citizen

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Warren checked on the two patrons in the Lantern and then went over to Emilie's booth. Pulling a chair from a nearby, he set it at the end of her paper-strewn table and straddled it. He laughed at the mess she'd made in a short time and leaned into give her a quick kiss.

Emilie pulled back and held out a folded paper contraption to him. "Pick a color," she ordered and rolled her eyes when Warren tapped on the red corner. "So predictable." She moved her fingers in quick succession, spelling out the color.

"Okay, now pick a number." Warren looked over his options and responded, "Eight. What are we doing?"

Emilie ignored him and counted off the numbers, shuffling the paper in time. When she'd made it to her destination, she lifted up a flap of the paper, and made a face.

"We are learning your future. Are you ready to hear what it is?" She smiled at him, asking him to play along.

"Born ready," Warren answered, mentally noting to never underestimate Emilie's ability to make him happy. Only she could play school-yard games while the rest of the world worried.

"I don't know," she eyed him, trying to size him up. "I'm not sure you can handle the truth. So I'm going to ask again: Do you, Warren Peace," she whispered, "hero extraordinaire and smokin' hot boyfriend, want to know how your life will turn out?"

Warren smirked when he heard the sobriquets and hooked an arm around her legs under the table, turning her to face him so that he could close the distance between them.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." Emilie blushed a little at the intensity in Warren's eyes and the mildly naughty thoughts his action brought to mind. She fell back into feigned seriousness, and leaning in conspiratorially, she read the sentence off of the paper.

"You will become a Scottish sheep farmer."

Warren laughed out loud before pulling Emilie in for a lingering kiss. She pulled back and smiled at him, basking in the favor she found there.

She gave him one more quick kiss before handing him a piece of paper and a pair of scissors. "Okay, we need to make a bunch of snowflakes for the party, so get to cutting mister." Emilie started folding her own piece of paper and looked back at him.

"Do you want to come over Saturday morning and help me make cookies? Layla and Magenta were supposed to come but both their parents were worried about them coming over alone, so they're just going to bake at their own houses and bring the stuff over before the party when Will and Zach can take them."

Warren nodded back, "Sure, I already asked off for the whole day anyway. But I don't have a clue how to make cookies, so I'm going for conversation purposes only." Emilie rolled her eyes at his response but smiled back. "Okay, sounds fair. Come over about ten, then."

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Lisette was leading her friends to the mall, when she caught a glimpse of something in a window that caught her attention: Warren Peace was laughing and making paper snowflakes with the girl from the dance. Hatred and jealousy rolled off her in waves; she'd gone out with Warren Peace for several months last year and the only thing they'd every done together was mess around and argue. Lisette stopped on the sidewalk and turned to her confused mignons.

She nodded toward the window at the scene going on inside, and heard gasps and exclamations of disgust from the girls. "I think we ought to stop inside, ladies," Lisette said, plotting. The girls caught on to the meaning behind her words and started smiling.

Warren swore under his breath when he saw the five girls walk into the Lantern and seat themselves at the table next to the one he and Emilie were currently occupying. He was instantly on the defensive. He stood up from the chair and turned to the table.

"What would you like to drink?" Warren glared threateningly at them.

"Five waters with lemon," Lisette answered him, matching his gaze. She smirked when he turned to fill the order. Then she turned to the redheaded girl in the booth.

"Hi," she tried for friendly, but wasn't quite sure if she achieved it. "I'm Lisette." She extended her hand.

Emilie smiled and shook it, holding back a gasp at the cold of her skin. "I'm Emilie." She smiled at the rest of the girls as well and went back to making snowflakes.

The blond interrupted, "We friends with Warren at school. How do you know him?"

"We're…umm, dating," she answered carefully. _I thought Will and the group were Warren's only friends at school._

Her musings were interrupted when she caught the group stifling giggles and eyeing each other knowingly. She laughed unsure and looked back questioningly, "Is something wrong?" The girls silenced immediately and turned back to Lisette.

"No," she drew out unconvincingly. She leaned in to Emilie as though confiding in her, "It's just rumors, really."

Emilie gave a fake smile and looked Lisette in the eyes. "Oh really? And what do these rumors say?"

Lisette smiled back coldly at the girl, ready to do some damage. "You know, this and that. After he and I broke up Warren got a reputation for only dating _easy _girls. Usually ones with pathetic powers, who would do _anything_ to date someone on the hero track. Not that _you're_ easy, of course." Lisette gave her a once over.

"Of course," Emilie said tightly, face reddening in anger this time.

One of the other girls at the table caught on to Lisette's game and piped in. "Although, I did hear him bragging the other day about hooking up with his girlfriend to a group of guys in the gym." She covered her mouth with her hand as though she'd said something she shouldn't have.

Lisette saw Warren walking back out of the corner of her eye and grinned at Emilie deliberately. "Hmm, maybe you are easy. Oh well, I know for a fact that knocking boots with Warren isn't all that bad." She looked up shrewdly at Warren and smirked at the look of loathing he was giving her.

"Come on girls," Lisette said, getting out of the booth. "We've got better places to be." The girls followed her quickly, giggling all the way to the door.

Emilie watched them leave and then turned back to her own table, slowly releasing the white knuckled grip she had on the scissors in her hand. _Stupid sluts_, she thought to herself. She was disgusted by their petty act but what was really hurting was the betrayal she felt. Emilie started gathering her papers, unable to look at Warren.

"Emilie," Warren pleaded, stooping at the edge of the booth so she could look him in the eyes. She just kept picking up her papers, pointedly ignoring him.

"Look at me, Emilie." Warren demanded, but got no response.

He put one hand on her shuffling papers and the other on her under her chin, forcing her to look at him. He let go when he saw the hurt in her eyes and looked away.

"Did you sleep with her?" Emilie asked him flatly.

Warren turned back to her. "Yeah, I did. But that was way before you, Emilie. God, I would never cheat on you." He saw her nod, but the injured look still haunted her.

"We're there any others?" She locked her eyes on his. She saw the answer before he ever spoke a word.

"Dammit, Warren," she let out an empty laugh. "So how many girls have there been?"

"A couple," Warren admitted, but took the defensive. He leaned into her. "Look, it's not like they made it sound. Yeah, I've been with a few girls. All girls that I was dating though; it's not like I'm trying to reach a quota of notches for my bedpost." He winced as he realized how that sounded. He reached out to stop Emilie as she tried to leave.

"No! Em, look at me," he wouldn't continue until he'd gotten her to do so. "They were all in the past, all long before you. I'm sorry I never told you about it, I guess. It just never came up in the conversation, and it's not like _we've_ gone far enough to warrant a talk about previous partners, okay? I'm sorry you found out like this." He kept his eyes trained on her, begging for her to understand.

Emilie sighed and tugged on a lock of hair, _He's not being unreasonable._ She took his hands from her shoulders, giving one a squeeze. "Me too, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. It's just…," she tried to explain. "Those girls. Ugh, I can't …just, ugh. I know you wouldn't boast about that kind of stuff anyway, I shouldn't have bought into what they were saying. Sorry." She saw relief pass over his features.

"Don't apologize. And," Warren struggled to get the sentence out, "in the interest of full disclosure, how many… um, who've you, you know, slept with?" He tensed as she ducked her head; he cringed at the thought of any hands but his own on her.

"Actually," Emilie started, trying to look anywhere but him. Warren caught a glimpse of a blush. "I never…uh, got that far with anyone." Warren brushed away the part of him that told him he was being hypocritical because he was pleased by her answer.

He looked at her, "Okay." He smiled wryly when he saw her blush deepen, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of discussion. Warren decided to save her; he sat back down at the table and flipped through her stack of papers.

"So then, how many more of these snowflakes do we need?"

Emilie smiled to herself and silently passed scissors and piece of paper towards him.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

"Eric, can you get the door?" Emilie yelled from the kitchen, her hands full with bags of flour and other ingredients. She heard Eric stomp to the door, and open it. When she'd set the things down, she went to the door to find Eric and Warren sizing each other up. Stepping behind Eric, Emilie made the introductions.

"Eric, this is Warren. Warren, Eric." She smiled up at Warren and nodded for him to come in.

"You're cool," Eric said with admiration as he took in Warren's red streaked hair, tattoos, and leather jacket. Emilie laughed when she saw Warren's awkward reaction.

"Uh…thanks." He looked back at Emilie for direction.

"Kitchen's this way," she nodded and led him farther into the house. Eric trailed behind.

"Can I help make the cookies?" Eric asked.

Emilie looked back at him with raised eyebrows; _He really must think Warren is cool._ "Sure."

Emilie started right away, pulling out the rest of the ingredients, finding the recipes, and turning on the oven. She turned back to the boys to find Warren leaning against the counter and Eric mimicking his pose. She smiled at the two and pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

"Okay. Warren, can you and Eric start mixing the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies while I work on the sugar ones?" She waited for the complaints but didn't hear any.

"Cool!" Eric said, excited to team up with his new idol. "I'll get the butter and you start mixing stuff." Warren smiled at the bossy kid and took the recipe card Emilie held out to him. He pulled her in for a quick kiss.

"Dude!" Eric interrupted, grossed out. Emilie and Warren looked back at him and laughed. Warren tugged off his coat, tossed it on the table and got to work. The three worked contentedly, Eric making enough conversation for all of them.

"Hey, we need the flour!" Eric demanded of Emilie. Complying she slid the bag along the counter, causing it to erupt in a cloud of white when it hit their mixing bowl. She laughed at the flour dust coating the boys' faces and shirts.

"Oh, you think that's funny do you?" Warren threatened and nudged Eric. "Let's get her." Eric gave a whoop of excitement and followed Warren's example of grabbing a handful of flour.

Emilie waved her hand out in front of her as they advanced. "Don't you dare! Eric, put that flour down- Warren is not your moral compass!" The boys laughed at her protestations before covering her in flour. Retaliating, Emilie reached out to the nearest ingredient and ended up tossing a handful of sugar at the two. In seconds the kitchen and the cooks were covered in a myriad of ingredients and unable to stand for laughing so hard.

Emilie tried once again, "Truce?" She asked, holding up her hands in surrender. The boys nodded, Warren trying in vain to brush the food off of himself.

"Let's put these in the oven, and make the icing, okay?" She spooned the dough onto the sheets until there wasn't any more room in the oven. Eric put Warren to work, setting out the stuff for icing. When he got to the dyes, he looked again at Warren before fingering his blond hair. When he was sure Emilie wasn't looking, he held out a lock of hair and squeezed the red dye bottle over it.

Emilie turned around when she heard Warren laughing out loud, and nearly passed out when she saw Eric. She shook her head as she took in his appearance: he had red dye dripping from his hair down his face and covering his hands. She rubbed the bridge of her nose when she saw the look of pride on his face.

"Upstairs," she pointed the way. "Go clean all that off. Dad is going to go ballistic when he sees what you've done to your hair now." She looked at Warren incredulously when he held out a hand for a high five to Eric, and then watched Eric hop up the stairs.

"You are a bad influence, Mr. Peace." Emilie laughed as she crossed to him.

Warren shrugged and backed her up to the counter, trapping her there with his hands on either side of her. "You love it," he smirked, and bent down to kiss her.

Emilie kissed back, letting her hands trail up the muscles in his back until she could tangle her hands in that troublesome hair of his. She felt the heat of him sinking into her as he pulled her closer.

"Ahem," Carson interjected. Emilie jumped away from Warren and blushed fervently when she heard her father's voice.

"Hey Dad," she tried for nonchalance. "We're making cookies."

Carson eyed the kitchen, "It looks like you're making a mess." He settled his scrutiny on Warren.

"Come into the office with me, son, we need to have a little talk," Carson said, crossing his arms.

Warren returned his stare and nodded, following him out of the kitchen.

"Daddy," Emilie called, watching the two retreat. "Be nice."

Carson waved to his daughter before closing the door to his office. He sat behind the desk and motioned for Warren to take a seat as well. He took in the sight of the kid, and had a hard time keeping a serious face as he saw the remnants of an eggshell on his shirt.

"So…," Carson started; he'd never actually talked with one of Emilie's gentlemen callers before, but he knew he needed to do this. "You and my daughter are dating. Generally, I'm fine with that until I see what I saw in the kitchen." Carson looked right at Warren. "You'd better treat my daughter damn well, kid. If I hear you hurt a hair on her head, I will hunt you down. That's my little girl." He saw Warren give a small nod, before continuing on. "There's something else, too. Maxville's not exactly safe right now, and Emilie spends as much time with you as she does here, so I just wanted to ask you to take care of her when she's with you. No heroics; if, God forbid, an attack happens while you're with her, promise me you'll make sure she comes out of it safe. Even if it means you take the hit." Warren's eyes never left his during the speech, but now he looked down.

"I will." Warren answered solemnly.

Carson let out a breath; he actually believed the kid. He stood up and opened the door of the office, but stopped Warren before he left. "And keep your hands to yourself."

The two walked back to the kitchen to find Emilie and Eric pulling cookies out of the oven. Emilie watched Warren and Carson each reach for one from the latest batch and tried to assess what had passed between the two.

"Hot," Carson sputtered when he took a bite. He looked at Warren to see his reaction, but he just shrugged and reached for another cookie.

Emilie swatted his hand away, "Stop it, they're for tonight. Speaking of which, I need to clean the kitchen and then go get dressed before Layla and Magenta come over with the rest of the stuff. And since I can't trust you with the cookies or get anything done while you're here, I'm kicking you out."

She tossed Warren his leather jacket and laughed at his look of disbelief. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek since her dad was still in the room and started for the door. She leaned in for a real kiss once they reached it.

"See you in a few hours. Wear something nice, please." Emilie looked up at him.

Warren nodded and gave her one more peck before leaving. He smiled when he heard a yell come from inside the house.

"Dad! Quit eating my cookies!"

**I promise that there is action coming in the next chapter. I just love to write about their little moments so much, and they really needed to talk about the sex issue because they are moving in that direction. Danger and smooching lurk in the future. And by the way, I think that if you sign up for a story alert you should leave a review- I have your names people. And I'm slowly getting around to reading the fics of everyone who reviews my story; everyone's is really good.**

**Please review.**


	9. Tell the Citizen

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. When it says MacDuff quotes, he's quoting Ben Franklin.**

Warren watched amused as Emilie excitedly opened the door and let another group of guests into the house. He watched as the neighbors, huddled and broken from fighting off something far more bitter than the cold, blinked for a few seconds as they took in the scenery around them. Gone was the bleak reality of the outside world, instead, they found themselves in a warm sparkling winter wonderland, and the candles and holly and twinkling lights seemed to awaken something deep within them. Warren couldn't take his eyes away as group after group appeared on the doorstep dispirited but after a minute inside shed their defeat, revealing their old selves underneath.

Emilie wandered over to Warren, who had positioned himself away from the masses as usual. She smiled as she noticed the decoration hung above the doorway he was leaning on and pointed to it. Emilie watched as a grin spread over his features when he spotted the mistletoe. Pulling her in, he kissed her softly on the lips and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Ahem," Carson interrupted the two, and looked at Warren when they pulled apart. "What did we talk about this morning?" Warren nodded at him but smirked.

Carson turned to Emilie, "This party was a good idea. I haven't even been able to talk to some of these people for weeks, but look what you did: everyone is here and laughing. I think we should start some carols though, don't you?"

Emilie smiled and agreed whole-heartedly, grabbing Warren's hand she headed for the action. Snaking her way through the crowd, Emilie introduced Warren to her neighbors, friends from school, and tried not to squish Eric and his friends who were running around underfoot. The two reached the stereo and found Will, Layla, Magenta, Zach, and Ethan chatting in a small group; Warren defected for them while Emilie set up some Christmas music to play. She waltzed over to them when she'd gotten the stereo to play.

"Thanks again, Magenta and Layla, for the cookies. I can't imagine I could have ever made enough for all of these people!" Emilie laughed, reveling in the happy normalcy of the setting.

Magenta and Layla waved her thanks away, and the group settled into lively conversation, occasionally interrupted by trips to the kitchen for more of the sweet Christmas pastries. Emilie withdrew from the chatter to bask in the scene she'd created. People who'd closed themselves and their families off for safety were laughing gaily with new aquaintances, kids were inhaling cookies as they played cards next to the windows, and a few people were even singing along with the Christmas carols.

She felt Warren pull her closer against him and lean down to whisper in her ear, "Merry Christmas."

Emilie's response was cut off by Eric and his friends' shouts of delight. "It's snowing! It's snowing outside! Come on!"

The already cheerful atmosphere grew at the news of the first snowfall, and soon everyone in the room was heading for their coats. Emilie and Warren joined the rest in a mass exodus for the door, and once they'd buttoned-up, found themselves standing on her front yard with dozens of others watching as the neighborhood was covered in a serene blanket of white.

In a matter of minutes there were people of all ages in every yard, throwing snowballs, building snowmen, and making snow angels. And those who weren't rolling in the snow had begun caroling animatedly; it was as though the snow had broken some dam and all of the severity and fear that had been building the last few months fell down before the child-like delight the snow and Christmas Eve had evoked.

Warren found himself unable to take his eyes off Emilie as she let go of his hand to twirl and dance in the snow. He laughed outright, though, when he saw Zach nail her in the back with a snowball. Grinning himself, he ran towards the growing snow fight and placed himself next to her, ready to do battle. Together, the two began flinging snowballs in earnest at the rest of the couples and the multitudes who'd joined them. Emilie laughed when she turned to Warren and saw her partner struggling to keep the snowballs from melting completely before launching them. In retaliation for her teasing him, Warren tackled Emilie to the ground, cushioning her weight with his arms. Her joy gaining momentum, Emilie wriggled, trapped between Warren's warm body and the frozen ground until she could reach up to wrap her arms around him.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered and leaned in for a kiss, but was grossly interrupted as a pile of snow came tumbling down from Zach, Will, and Ethan standing above them. Exchanging a quick glance with each other, Warren and Emilie sprang into action, trying to stand while furiously flinging more snow at the guilty party.

Their playful banter ceased immediately when all of the lights on the street and in the distance abruptly shut off, leaving the stunned people in a dark eerie silence. Instinctively, Emilie shifted towards Warren and reached for his hand. The entire crowd gasped when three figures flew down the street and stopped in front of the group outside of Emilie's home.

Finding himself a mere ten feet away from the some of the same Supervillains he'd seen that afternoon in September, Warren stepped in front of Emilie, protecting her and simultaneously keeping her from doing something stupid again.

Everyone watched with bated breath as the leader of the three Villains, who they'd all seen splashed weekly across the front page of the _Maxville Star_ in his ominous silver and black, sauntered down the street until he'd reached the sidewalk that lead to the house.

"Some party you've all got here," he said, his voice mocking. "And to think we didn't warrant an invitation." He nodded for his two companions, a man in dark bronze and a woman in solid blue, came to flank either side of him. His face contorted as he started to speak again, "Apparently, you citizens haven't quite gotten the message. We want your heroes, and since neither asking nicely nor causing floods has quite gotten your attention, we're going to try a little harder." He smiled coldly and looked around the crowd, who was frozen in terror. He walked slowly around the people closest to him, laying a hand on their shoulders in a deceptively friendly gesture or stroking their hair, as if he was trying to pick a prize horse.

Warren could feel Emilie inhale sharply as the Villain neared them. He felt the anger melt the snow beneath his feet as he dug his heels in ready for a fight. Emilie sensing the danger in Warren, laid a reassuring hand on his back, but kept her eyes trained on those of the Villain calmly walking towards them. The Villain cocked his head at her boldness and a corner of his mouth curved up in a cold smile. But he turned his gaze from her when a girl to his left let out a loud sob of fear.

His body angled towards her and with a quick flex of his arm snatched her towards him, causing her sobbing to near hysteria. Emilie recognized her as a neighbor's teenage daughter and flinched closer to Warren's back, scared for the girl.

The Villain pulled her back towards his companions and faced the shuddering crowd. "There's no way that some of you citizens don't know the true identities of your heroes. They're your neighbors, coworkers, and some of you even think they are your friends. They're not. Would your friends stop coming when there's a crisis because they're scared? Some heroes you've got. All we're asking is that you turn them in to us. Actually, we're not asking, we're demanding. The price of non-compliancy has just gone up." And with that last statement, he pulled out the arm of the young girl and snapped her arm in half. A chilling scream went up from her at the pain of her arm breaking. Small cries and horrified gasps followed from the crowds, but cruel chuckles could be heard from the three in the street.

Silence fell the moment the Villain opened his mouth again. "We're upping the ante. If we don't start getting the heroes soon, you're going to have a lot more to fear than a broken arm and a couple of burning buildings." With that he grabbed the two Villains next to him and lifted off of the ground, hovering a few feet in the air. Before taking off, the two on either side of their leader ambushed the people below them; the woman lifted her hands and turbulent winds came out of nowhere, making it hard for anyone to move let alone see due to the now frantic falling of snowflakes while the man shot lightning bolts at the bystanders, occasionally starting small fires when they hit something other than the ground. After a few minutes of the chaos, they took off leaving the citizens to the ruin.

Emilie was pushed into Warren as people ran past her, yelling and thrashing their way through people they'd just minutes ago been laughing with, running for the safety of their homes. Warren turned around to hold her to him, and tried to lead them back to her house when he ran into Carson, who was attempting to do the same. Carson gripped Warren on the shoulder in silent thanks and pulled Emilie toward him, but she clung to Warren's arm.

"What are you going to do? You can't walk home now! Come in and stay with me; you can call your mom and tell her what's going on." Emilie objected her father's continually tugging toward the door and pleaded with Warren.

Warren opened his mouth to answer when Will and the group ran up to them. "We've got to go. _Everyone_," Will stressed the word with hidden meaning as he quieted his voice to a whisper, "is meeting at my house. I just got a call from my dad, and they're meeting now to talk about what this," he nodded toward where the Villains had stood on the street, "is going to mean." Warren nodded and looked back to Emilie.

"I'll be fine. I'm going with them. I'll call you when I'm back at home." He cast a quick glance at Carson, who was searching the surroundings anxiously as if expecting another attack, and gave Emilie a quick kiss on the forehead. "Go with your dad. Don't do anything stupid." Warren paused despite the frenzied atmosphere encompassing him, something acutely clear in this moment. He leaned towards Emilie's ear though Layla tugged on the back of his jacket and whispered, "Love you." Not waiting for a response, Warren turned and took off with his friends, inaudibly sprinting in the direction of Will's home, and Emilie let herself be dragged into her house by her father.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Warren tried in vain to pushing Emilie and her safety and the thing he'd said to her to the back of his mind as he entered Will's packed albeit somber house.

Steve Stronghold, noting the final arrival of his son and his friends began speaking to the Heroes gathered. "You all know why we're here. After the numerous attacks across Maxville tonight this meeting was necessary. Mr. MacDuff, also known as Highlander, the head of the Bureau, is here to tell us what we need to do." Steve stepped back next to his wife and a tall white-haired man moved forward to take the place in the middle of the room.

"I am sorry to say," he started, holding out his hands in a gesture of surrender, "that we are only marginally more knowledgeable about these villains than we were when they first began attacking Maxville. I am truly sorry to have failed you so, but please understand that we have spared no expense nor left any resource untapped in our attempts to impede and cease them. I fear that we must do something previously unheard of: we must temporarily disband the rescue sector of the Bureau in order to protect ourselves. From here on out, no rescues will be sanctified by us- you all go out at your own risk." The adults around the students broke into murmurs, seeming in the majority to agree with Mr. MacDuff. "I know," he started again, "this is shocking but we seem to have no choice. Every mission we risk losing one of you, and I believe it is in our best interest to, at least for now, live as citizens only. Everything else will go on as usual. The students must continue to go to Sky High since having them stay at home or enrolling them now at the public schools will be suspicious, besides they're safer in the air than we are in Maxville. And we will continue all other sectors of the Bureau until we compile enough information on these villains to go after them. And we will go after them." With that final note of hope and ambition, MacDuff stepped back, and the crowd began to disperse, small groups of people leaving the Stronghold house at a time until only the six teenagers, their parents, and MacDuff were left. They formed a tense circle.

Josie gave Will a squeeze, "Thank goodness you all are alright." She turned to MacDuff, "Do you really think they'll become more violent in their search for us?" At his solemn nod, she questioned again. "And you're sure that it's best for us all to hide out?"

MacDuff took a long look around the circle before quoting, "I fear that if we do not hang together, we shall surely hang separately." The couples in the circle, parents and students alike, stepped closer to their significant others, and the parents glanced worriedly at their kids.

"What about citizens who know our identities? What are we supposed to do about that?" Ethan's father asked pragmatically.

"There is nothing we can do about that but to trust our friends." MacDuff answered, but all of the parents were unhappy with the answer.

Steve shot back, "I don't like that. They could be the end of us." He looked over the circle, his eyes landing on Warren. "What about your girlfriend?" he asked rhetorically, and turned to debate his point to the adults. "She knows all of the kids and Josie and I are Heroes. She probably knows all of you are too. What's to stop her from running to the Villains and snitching on all of us?"

The students let out a chorus of dissent, none louder than Warren. "Emilie," Warren declared, the certainty in his voice silencing everyone, "would _never_ do that."

Steve shook his head at the youth's naiveté, "You don't know that."

Warren stepped into the middle of the circle until he was eye to eye with the Commander, "Yes. Yes, sir, I do." Will pulled him back and assured his father and the other adults, "Emilie wouldn't do that. She's our friend."

MacDuff cleared his throat, and every eye turned to him. "It seems, Steve, that so long as you all were as careful as your kids were in choosing who you revealed to, you've nothing to worry about. True friends would rather die than betray each other. And, I believe I need to be going, but call me, any of you, if you need something." With that, the head of the Bureau donned his coat and left the house.

**Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Warren held up a hand in silent thanks to Josie Stronghold for the ride home and shook the snow off of his leather jacket before letting himself into his house. Not two steps into the house, Warren was met with the naturally calming countenance of Felicity Peace.

Warren held out his arms to show his mom he was still in one piece and smiled for her, "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

Felicity Peace mentally shook her head at her son's relentless worry over her, but nodded at Warren in response. Warren felt the tension in his shoulders relax the slightest bit now that he could see for himself she was okay, and stepped in to give her a quick hug, his hand patting the top of her back where her dark brown hair met her wooly sweater.

"Okay then, I'm…uh…I'm going to make a quick call and go to bed." Warren started for the stairs, his mind now occupied with that thing he'd said earlier to Emilie. Felicity Peace watched her son run a hand through his hair, preoccupied with thoughts she knew to be about the redheaded girl he'd been seeing for a while. She smiled as she watched his retreat upstairs, reading the admiration, adoration, and worry for the girl that was rolling off of him in waves.

Unaware of the emotions his mother was gathering from him, Warren closed the door to his room and pulled out his phone, dialing Emilie's number. It only rang once before she picked up.

"Me too." Emilie said in way of salutation.

Warren stopped, confused. "What?"

"That thing you said before you left. You said, 'Love you,' and I'm saying, 'me too.'"

Warren smiled as his scattered mind caught up to what she was saying. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Emilie smiled back into the phone for a moment before remembering reality. "So you made it back home safely? How did the meeting at Will's go?"

"Yeah, I'm home," he stopped there, unsure of what to tell her. "And the meeting was …fine, too. The Bureau just wanted to, you know, remind everyone to be extra careful." He couldn't tell her the truth; he couldn't tell her that the Heroes he'd always admired had agreed to stop saving citizens or that the entire Hero community was pretty much going to go underground and let the citizens face the Villains on their own. He wouldn't tell her that now.

"Okay… then…" Emilie stuttered awkwardly over the phone. She didn't know what to talk about: the heartless attack that happened just hours earlier this Christmas Eve, effectively putting everyone into a panic or the fact that she and Warren had just exchanged (kind of) those three little words.

Warren spared her the awkwardness, "Yeah…good night, I guess."

"'Night." Emilie answered, but didn't hang up. "Love you."

"Me too," Warren returned quietly.

**Sorry this took so long to get up, but these hurricanes have really screwed things up. So today after the football game and life has calmed down a little, I came right home and finished this chapter. And please forgive me for this chapter not quite being up to par, I promise to be better and update faster. I also want to say thank you for the reviews. You all are, honestly, amazing. Every review means so much to me and I read them about a hundred times. Thanks, and please keep reviewing. I want to know what you think, if you liked the chapter, if I missed something, or if there's something you think should happen. **


	10. Update Continue Writing

Hey ya'll.

Okay, so I still love this story, and I've already mapped out how it ends. I am done with school and have a lot of free time on my hands with which I'd like to fill up with writing. So basically what I'm saying is: would you like me to finish this story?

I am going to start a Lord of the Rings fic as well, but I will finish this story first if enough people show interest.

Thanks and Happy New Year!

Feel free to post something/anything you'd like to see in the story- if you can still remember any of it!


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